


No Strings Attached

by musvitten



Series: Strings and Loose Ends [1]
Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Breaking Up & Making Up, Fluff and Angst, Friends With Benefits, From Sex to Love, Gender-Neutral Pronouns for Pidge | Katie Holt, Getting to Know Each Other, M/M, Minor Hunk/Shay (Voltron), Miscommunication at its finest, Pining Lance (Voltron), Sexual Content, Slow Burn, Smut, Strangers to Lovers, self-indulgent af
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-17
Updated: 2017-10-17
Packaged: 2019-01-18 15:59:15
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 49,736
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12391437
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/musvitten/pseuds/musvitten
Summary: “So… he just shows up at your door?” Pidge squinted at him, adjusting their glasses.“Yup.”“Do you know where he lives?” More squinting.“Nope.”“What’s his major?”“Dunno.”Pidge sighed in frustration, dropping their sandwich onto the table in favor of tugging at their hair strands.“Lance, what do you evenknow?”-(Or: Lance engages in casual sex with Keith just to realize that it might not be as casual as he’s pretending it to be)





	No Strings Attached

**Author's Note:**

> When we started writing this exactly one year ago, I don't think we anticipated how long this was gonna be.
> 
> Oh boy. It's really long.
> 
> We're not gonna pretend that we know any Spanish, so just assume that Lance speaks Spanish with his family 90 % of the time (the other 10 % being English words haphazardly thrown into conversations)
> 
> Anyway, this is our first fic on this site, so I really hope you enjoy it!

Lance met Keith at New Year’s Eve.

 

Everyone obsessed over the party weeks before winter break. There was a certain anticipation (the kind you could only associate with university students desperate for a break) building as the occasional “You comin’ to the party at New Year’s?” slipped past several of his classmates during the start of a conversation.

Most people weren’t really familiar with the people who hosted it, though. They just assumed it would be a great party because it was one of the frathouses close to campus that held it.

But here was the thing - Lance had the benefit of knowing better than most.

Supposedly it was held by one of Pidge’s older brother’s friends who lived at the frathouse. A frat that was above all known for their crazy-ass parties.

Since it was his first semester of uni, he’d never actually been to any of their parties. That didn’t mean he hadn’t heard of how their parties usually went, though. Not only were they gossip among most of the first years, but Matt had supplied them with several stories and snaps during some of them (honestly, he couldn’t tell what happened in most of the pictures, but it looked _wild_ ).

This would be Matt’s and his friends’ last year in university, and so they’d promised to load up their alcohol supplies for the biggest party yet to come. Which not only meant that this would be an even bigger party than usual, but also that this would be Lance’s only chance to go.

One problem though? His friends.

 

“Pidge?”

“No.”

Silence.

Then, with more emphasis,

“ _Pidge._ ”

The latter rolled their eyes.

“Lance. No.”

“Come _on,_ ” Lance said for the nth time, pouting for extra effect when Pidge didn’t budge.

With most of their exams overcome, they’d all gathered at Pidge’s place to hang out and relax for once. Lance, though, was reluctant to let go of his persuasion. He was a man with a cause.

In front of him, Pidge groaned.

“Why can’t we just celebrate New Year’s Eve like we always do?” they argued, arms crossed as they leaned back in their chair.

“ _Because,_ ” he tried again, leaning over the table until his face was mere inches away from them, “This is our first year of university. We gotta attend the parties, man.”

“Half the university’s going,” they stated simply, nonplussed by Lance’s insistence.

“That’s _exactly_ why we need to go!” Lance leaned his head against the table, changing tactic as he replaced his pout with puppy eyes. “Pwetty pwuease?”

“Oh my God, you fucking furry,” Pidge said, pushing at his face until he was facing away from them, “Not in my house.”

Lance barked a laugh at that, and just to grate on Pidge’s nerves, he brought his hand up to his face, pawing the air in real cat style.

“Still trying to convince Pidge?” Hunk asked once he entered the kitchen, immediately plopping down on the seat next to Lance.

Lance only grumbled in response, faceplanting the table as he momentarily gave up in his persuasion.

Then, contemplatively, he slowly lifted his face from the table to turn his gaze towards Hunk.

The moment their gazes met, Hunk’s eyebrow twitched, probably already sensing what was coming. A sigh escaped his lips.

“Huuuu _uuunk?_ Please?”

“I mean,” Hunk started, clearly conflicted as he looked between the two of them. “If Pidge’s okay with it, I’m in.”

Pidge opened their mouth, once again ready to shoot the suggestion down.

Lance got to them first, though, holding a hand up as he exclaimed, “Ub-bub bub! Hear me out!”

When Pidge relented, albeit with some reluctance, Lance continued.

“Just think about it. We get to try something new for once. Free drinks… pretty first _and_ second years… new, drunk people we can mess with…” while listing the things off, Lance started counting on his fingers, pausing for extra effect between each of the options. “Besides, we can always leave early if it gets too boring.”

Pidge wrinkled their nose in contemplation, weighing their options.

“I guess. I just don’t know,” they eventually answered, not entirely convinced.

Lance hummed thoughtfully as he drummed his finger against the table, trying to come up with something that’d catch Pidge’s attention. Then, suddenly, an idea struck him.

“Matt’s gonna be there too,” he drawled nonchalantly, looking at his nails while fighting off the grin that threatened to take over his features. “You may even get blackmail on him if you’re lucky.”

For once, Pidge actually looked interested. Seemed to mull it over as they met Lance’s gaze evenly.

At last, they caved in.

“Fine.”

Lance whooped, immediately pumping his fist into the air.

 

* * *

 

The music and chatter were audible before they’d even arrived at the right street. Standing by the doorstep, Lance realized why.

The frat house was huge - three stories tall, pillars at the front and massive windows overlooking the front yard. Chains of Christmas lights still decorated the fence surrounding the house and a trashed christmas tree was used by the smokers as a shield from the chilling wind.

The house was brimming with drunk people, huddled groups standing outside as much as inside with drinks in hand, talking in loud, gushing voices.

Lance felt rather than heard the bass, shaking his core before they’d even made it inside.

Hunk was standing by his side, shuffling his feet nervously while Pidge took the house in a few feet away.

“Let’s trash this place,” they announced, glancing back towards Lance and Hunk with a devilish grin before making their way towards the entrance.

The stare Hunk sent his way was worried, but by then Lance was following Pidge, a similar smirk reaching his lips, “Come on Hunk!”

A sigh escaped the latter’s lips before he heard tentative steps follow him.

 

Fortunately, the entrance wasn’t as overcrowded as the rest of the house seemed to be, and getting from there to the wardrobe (one of the spare bedrooms on the ground floor) was easier than expected.

The three of them managed to get rid of their jackets and piled them on top of the bed.

“Let’s go find Matt,” Pidge said, readjusting their glasses as they squinted at the small crowd gathered in the hallway.

“You do that. I’ll go find something to drink in the meantime,” Lance said. Pidge rolled their eyes, but otherwise didn’t object.

“Just don’t get lost, man,” Hunk interjected, bumping his fist against Lance’s shoulder amiably, “You’re always so hard to find.”

“What do you mean, ‘hard to find’?” Lance objected, feigning offense, “I’m a ladies’ man. You’ll find me where all the pretty ladies are!”

“Well, who’s gonna entertain the pretty guys, then?” Hunk added, raising his brows at him with a barely hidden grin.

“You know me well,” he drawled, shooting finger guns in his direction as a smile rested confidently on his lips. “Also, who wouldn’t want a piece of-”

“Whatever you say,” Pidge interrupted, clearly exasperated with the two of them, and that seemed to settle matters.

Hunk gave him one last pat on the shoulder before he and Pidge went on their pursuit, mingling with the crowd in no time.

 

Wherever he went, half empty bottles and cups littered along the walls and tables, but the drinks were nowhere to be seen. It didn’t help that everyone prefered to stay in the same room, making it harder for him to find his way through the house.

Honestly, he didn’t even know where to start looking in this mess. Several times he had to apologize as drunk bodies stumbled into him, and other times his own balance failed him.

At last he managed to get the attention of a few girls standing by the beer pong table. He conversed with them for awhile, slipping in a few pick-up lines now and then that made them all giggle. All it took was for him to complain about his thirst (not as in _thirst_ , but, you know, _thirst_ -thirst) before, finally, a beautiful brunette grabbed his arm and led him towards one of the more secluded areas.

 

Pushing the door open, Lance realized that they’d found the kitchen, and he was delighted to see snacks as well as several cups stacked beside a punchbowl.

Serving the two of them, Lance turned around to offer the girl - Inés, she’d told him at one point - one of his flirtatious smirks.

“So…” he started, a glint in his eyes as he approached her.

He never got to continue, though, as the door to the kitchen burst open.

“Inés?” Lance recognized the girl as part of the group from the beer pong table, her easygoing nature at once replaced by a wariness as she took the scene in.

Apparently jumping to conclusions quickly, she went to grab for her friend’s arm, whispering furiously into her ear.

He couldn’t hear what they were saying, but judging from the blush that spread across her cheeks, it wasn’t a hard guess.

Inés smiled apologetically at him as she was dragged away, a quick “Maybe later,” shared between the two of them.

Lance sighed as the door shut behind them and, once again, he was left to his own premises. _Oh well_. He eased more alcohol into his cup, then grabbed another for the sake of it before he returned to the party.

 

Looking back, Lance should probably have picked a meeting point with his friends. If possible, even more people had arrived in the meantime he had been in the kitchen, their writhing bodies blocking most of Lance’s sight.

Barely an hour in, and he’d already succeeded in losing complete sight of his friends. _Great_.

 

Half drunk and looking for his friends, that was how he’d stumbled upon Keith.

Standing at the near back of the living room with his arms crossed, he surveyed the party taking place in front of him with brooding eyes.

He looked like something taken right out of an 80’s movie. He dressed like a wannabe punk, his outfit all black save for a pair of bright red Doc Martens. As if that wasn’t enough, his look was paired with fingerless gloves and an awfully outdated hairstyle that made Lance tug at his own hair unconsciously.

Despite this, he was _unfairly_ handsome even from afar, all pouty lips and a jawline to die for.

Although his posture gave Lance the clear impression that he was disinterested, he found himself steering towards the stranger.

He put one of his drinks forward in a silent offer, and the latter only raised a silent eyebrow in response.

His eyes were intimidating, indigo boring into Lance. A moment that should only have lasted one second felt like hours stretching on, his eyes contemplative and reminding Lance of a cat eyeing a stranger, not knowing whether to attack or retreat. For some reason it made him oddly self-conscious, and he squirmed nervously under the latter’s scrutinizing gaze.

Finally, as if he’d made up his mind, he accepted Lance’s drink.

“Enjoying yourself?” He smirked as he leaned up against the wall, mimicking the other’s stance.

“Take a wild guess.” The guy smiled wryly before letting his eyes stray away from Lance’s face, almost as if he couldn’t believe he actually made the effort.

Changing tactics, Lance stretched his hand forward in greeting, smirk still in place as he patiently waited for the latter’s gaze to find his. “The name’s Lance.”

He eyed his outstretched hand skeptically before answering, “Okay?”

“Har har,” Lance drawled before dropping his hand, regaining his former pose, “Now, if you could cut that crap and tell me your name, that’d be great.”

Lance didn’t miss the smug smile that ghosted across his mouth before he took a long sip of his drink, seemingly giving in, “Keith.”

“Well, Keith,” he said, mulling his words over as he brought his own cup to his lips before proceeding, “Mind if I join you?”

The latter shrugged, glancing his way before going back to ignoring him. Despite this, Lance couldn’t help but wonder if there wasn’t a speck of gratitude in the latter’s less tense shoulders, perhaps even a small smile playing on his lips as if he was amused by his company.

Pleased with himself, Lance mimicked the other’s stance and let his eyes wander.

At the other end of the room he could still see the mass of people playing beer pong, their chants and shrieks audible despite the loud music blasting through the stereo. Some people were sitting in lounges, gossiping or laughing at some unheard joke. One guy was leaning against the wall all by himself, his nausea palpable from the way he was holding onto his stomach.

At some point Lance couldn’t take it any longer, and he finally caved in to his curiosity and broke the silence.

“So, Keith…” he dragged his words out as he turned his head, eyeing him, “Why’d you come here?”

Keith seemed unfazed by his question, his stance not giving away whether he’d heard him or not. For a second Lance was sure he wouldn’t answer him. Then,

“It’s New Year’s Eve. Why wouldn’t I?” His eyes were still on the people in front of them, his gaze almost bored as he took another sip of his drink. Putting the drink down, he grimaced slightly.

“Well, you’re sorta hiding back here,” Lance pointed out, gesturing to the snug corner they’d fit themselves in.

When his gaze finally found his, the latter lifted one thick eyebrow questioningly.

“You’re here too.”

Lance shrugged. “Got lost from my friends,” he elaborated when Keith cocked his head to the side. The latter stayed quiet for a moment, eyebrows drawn together in a slight frown.

“You sure they’re not just hiding from you?”

Lance huffed.

“Pretty sure.” He straightened his back, trying to sport the dignity he was currently lacking. “They wouldn’t do that.”

Keith didn’t miss a beat. “Then maybe you should go check on them.”

Lance made a _pfft_ sound, waving Keith’s comment off with an off-handed gesture.

“They’ll be fine! Besides, thought you needed me more.” At this, Lance put his charming face on, waggling his eyebrows for extra measure as he leaned into Keith’s space. “I’ve heard my company’s a blessing.”

Keith turned his head away, not able to disguise his snort.

“Oh _really_ now…”

 

Keith was a tease, all of his answers cryptic and leaving no space for further elaborating.

Despite the fact that Lance was being extra charming, his advances were shut down time after time. All of Keith’s replies were delivered with a certain cockiness that left him a stuttering mess, desperately trying to regain his (not quite existing) dignity.

Lance might have left him to his own misery in favor of searching for his friends. Instead he remained by his side, enjoying whenever he managed to provoke a reaction out of him, watching the way he would wrinkle his nose or pout at him.

If Lance had to be completely honest with himself, he didn’t just stay for the company. Keith was interesting, his vagueness piquing his curiosity just enough to keep him around. If there was anything that Lance enjoyed, after all, it was a challenge.

They’d fallen into a comfortable silence once again, and Lance found himself watching Keith from the corner of his eye. His arms were uncrossed, hanging loosely by his sides and grazing Lance’s elbow now and then. The former frown he’d been wearing had smoothed out into an almost relaxed expression, replaced by a small, grateful smile that had Lance look away, the smile oddly intimate in their close proximity.

His gaze landed once again on the beer pong table, and a sudden idea popped into his head. Turning towards Keith, he propped his shoulder up against the wall as he patiently waited for him to find his gaze.

“Do you play beer pong?”

Keith’s brows creased into a frown once again as he regarded him.

“Uhh…” for a second his eyes became unfocused, his voice dragging out the vowels, “No?”

“Is that a ‘no I haven’t’ or ‘no I’d rather not play beer pong with you’?” Lance said, wearing a lopsided smile as he jutted his hip out in exaggeration.

Keith’s lips just barely quirked as his posture straightened, sizing Lance up.

“Is that a challenge?”

He matched his smile. “Can’t say it isn’t.”

“Well then,” Keith said, taking a step forward until he was all up in his space, eyes narrowed for extra effect, “Get ready to suck it up.”

 

Lance volunteered to rid the table of leftovers while Keith went to the kitchen for more beer, since he didn’t trust his own sense of direction.

It wasn’t long before Keith had returned, easily finding his way around the overcrowded hallway. They stacked cups on either side of the table, and the silence between the two of them were slowly giving way for a brewing, competitive tension.

When he finished assembling his cups, he found out Keith’s eyes were already on him, a ping-pong ball in hand.

“Ready?“ The word rang clearly across the table despite the loud chatter, Lance tuning the rest out in favor of focusing solely on Keith.

He leaned over the table, hand on each side of it as he met Keith’s gaze with a smirk.

“I was born ready.”

Keith raised his eyebrows in an unimpressed expression. Lance winked, straightening his posture just barely as he waited for him to throw the first shot.

The latter rolled his eyes before he went for the shot, and the ball barely missed his cups, grazing the side of one of them. Lance’s eyes followed its movement, snatching the ball the moment it missed.

He quickly sent the ball flying the opposite direction, but his aim wasn’t much better than Keith’s, the ball hitting the table a few inches too far to the left.

The second time Lance had the ball, his shot made it smoothly to the cup in the middle, the ball taking a spin in the cup before settling in the beer. Lance waggled his eyebrows, his lips curling at the sight.

“They don’t call me sharpshooter for nothing.”

Keith wrinkled his nose as he picked the cup up, huffing from Lance’s reply. He fished the ball out of his drink before tipping it back, drinking it all in one go.

He was just about to comment on Keith’s slow pace, when he heard the unmistakable sound of the ball landing in his beer’s foam, and he looked down to see the ball flowing in one of his cups.

“And you were saying?”

Lance didn’t need to look up to see Keith’s smile, he could practically hear it in his taunt. Cursing himself, he quickly downed the cup.

“Pure luck,” Lance spat, stacking the cup away before firing back.

Keith hit another two in a row after that, taking out half of Lance’s cups before they’d barely started.

As much as Lance was annoyed by Keith, perhaps taking out too much of his anger in his shots as _he didn’t hit a single one_ , he couldn’t help but be mildly impressed with him. _Damn_.

He and Hunk were usually invincible when playing beer pong, goofing around with most of their shots and still managing to hit their opponent’s cups in no time. Of course he’d screw up as soon as he’d stumbled upon Keith, the one opponent he was so focused on winning against.

The worst part was that Keith didn’t even _know_ how to throw the ball properly - he moved his arm as if throwing a goddamn _basketball_ , so how did he _still_ manage to hit his cups?!

Lance made a frustrating noise in the back of his throat as Keith gestured for him to assemble his cups into the middle, a cocky smile rooted to his face.

“Getting cold feet now, are we?”

“Don’t get too full of yourself just yet,” Lance grumbled, though he begrudgingly had to admit that he’d probably do the same, had it been him.

At least he could find some comfort when Keith’s next shot wasn’t even close to his cups, instead hitting Lance square in the chest before it fell into his unsuspecting hands.

He snorted before holding up the ball, showing it off to Keith with a smirk. Keith scoffed, crossing his arms as he waited not-so-patiently for Lance to throw the ball.

He positioned himself for the next shot agonizingly slow, smirking at Keith’s impatient huff now and then before he flicked his wrist, sending the ball flying in his opponent’s direction.

Fortunately for him, his next shot was a hit, bouncing from the tip of one of Keith’s cups before settling into the one next to it.

He was startled out of his zone by the sound of cheering all around him. Looking around, he realized they’d attracted a bigger audience than he’d originally thought.

Belately joining in on the audience’s cheering he whooped, and a few of the people around him offered high fives as he took a round.

Keith rolled his eyes as he fished the ball out of his drink, and he didn’t fire back before Lance was done, facing him once again.

The game turned in Lance’s favor after that. Keith missed most of his shots while Lance’s confidence had only been fueled by his accuracy, still reveling in the sudden attention they’d gained. In the time it took him to get rid of most of Keith’s cups, the latter had only succeeded in dropping one of his shots into Lance’s cups.

That was how he ended up having two cups against Keith’s one, brows furrowed in concentration as he over-exaggerated his aim.

“You’re not gonna hit it if you overdo it,” Keith warned him, eyebrows raised mockingly at his concentration.

Lance tuned him and their audience out in favor of locking his gaze on the cup, his hands repeating the motion several times, trying to find the exact angle that’d make him hit the cup. Finally, with one last flick of his wrist he sent it flying across the table-

There was a sound plop as the ball found its target, landing right in the beer’s foam so the content spilled over the table.

Lance’s own joyous whoop was drowned out by the crowd, his name chanted over and over as strangers went over to pat his back enthusiastically. Dazed from the excitement, he could feel the smile stretching across his face as he took in the crowd.

Some girls were watching him from afar, giggling and whispering between each other when he met their gazes. Another movement caught his attention, though, and he turned to look as Keith downed his last cup, face scrunched up in a grimace.

As if making up his mind, Lance excused himself before scooping the remaining two cups from his side up in his hands, making his way over to the latter.

“I gotta admit, you’re pretty good,” he said, giving one of his cups to Keith while keeping the other, “Too bad you’re playing against _the_ champion of beer pong.”

Keith wrinkled his nose as he downed the last of his beer before answering.

“Pretty sure that title belongs to someone else,” Keith started, but before Lance could find out just _who_ that person might’ve been, someone stumbled into his shoulder.

His body pivoted forward and into Keith’s space for a fraction of a second before the two of them regained their balance, trying to find the cause behind their close encounter.

“Dude, that was impressive!” Two guys were standing behind them with beer cans stacked in their arms, wearing a somewhat awestruck expression. “You gotta play against us, man.”

When Lance glanced to his side to look at Keith, he realized the latter was doing the exact same thing. He couldn’t help but notice how they were standing a lot closer to each other than they’d done before.

Their eyes met for a second before Lance broke into a shiteating grin.

“What do you say?” He asked, prodding at Keith’s shoulder, “Should we team up?”

Keith put on a thoughtful face, but Lance could see by the faint smile tugging at the corner of his lips that he’d already made his decision.

“Well,” he drawled, finally letting the smile reach his lips, “One game can’t hurt.”

 

In the end they played against three opponents in a row, destroying each one of them with finesse.

They played dirty (Keith, unlike Hunk, wasn’t one for a ‘nice, fair game’ if he could get away with it), and at times they even ridiculed their opponents by making their shots extra sloppy, yet they still managed to win in the end. More often than not they’d end up in verbal fights with their opponents, the alcohol only making them more reckless.

When Lance retrieved his ball after another missed shot, Keith was already lining up for the trick shot, knees slightly bent as his arms made a ring for Lance to shoot through.

The guys they were playing against were having none of it, though.

“No fucking _way_! That’s cheating!”

Lance rather felt than heard when one of the other guys slammed their hands onto the table, startling him out of his position. The cups stirred dangerously from the impact, and for a second it looked like one of them might spill over, but fortunately one of the guys righted it the last second.

“What do you mean it’s cheating? We’ve been doing this the whole game!” He objected, straightening his posture while doing so.

Keith was backing him up immediately afterwards with a, “Yeah what’s the matter?”

“You’re just throwing the ball like usual! Where’s the trick in looping your hand through his arms?”

“If it’s _that_ easy, why don’t you just do it yourself?”

“We would, if _someone_ would stop running onto _our_ side of the table to steal the ball from us!”

“Maybe you should just be quicker next time! Stop bitching and let’s just _play_ , man.” Lance got ready to shoot once again, but the objections from the other side of the table had him drop his arm once again in frustration.

“Ugh, _fine_ ,” Lance groaned, exaggeratedly placing the ball in his left hand. He wiggled it mockingly in their face to assure them that it was his _left_ hand, not his effin’ _right_ before throwing it halfheartedly.

It was as if the conversations around them stilled, their gazes locked on the ball as time slowed down, the ball moving in slow motion.

The ball landed in the one remaining cup with a sound plop.

Lance blinked at the cup, not really comprehending what just happened. As he looked to the side, Keith met his gaze, jaw slack and eyes wide open in disbelief.

All around them, the audience roared. Lance was literally jumping in his excitement, hands holding onto Keith’s shoulders as he kept repeating, “We did it, Keith! _We did it_!”

Before he knew it, everyone had closed in on them, joining in on their celebration. He could feel himself being squashed up against Keith, his arms awkwardly bent between the two of them until the better of him decided to pull him into a hug.

Laughter reverberated against his chest as the circle dispersed, the mass already getting engrossed in the next beer pong game. It was another half minute before he let go, yet Lance still held on to Keith’s shoulder as they regarded one another, smiles still present on their faces.

Now that they weren’t playing beer pong anymore he started to feel the alcohol kick in, his face heated and his balance betraying him. Keith wasn’t faring much better, heat crawling up his neck. _Great_.

“So…” Lance raised his eyebrows suggestively at Keith, reveling in their close proximity, “Any other talents you’re hiding?”

“Well, now that you’re asking…” Up close, Keith’s voice sounded almost husky, sending an involuntary shiver down Lance’s spine. His Adam’s apple bobbed nervously as he waited for Keith to continue.

He leaned in, his breath hot on Lance’s ear-

“Lance!”

Keith paused. Lance groaned in frustration.

… _of fucking course_ his friends would decide to show up _now_ of all times.

Lance reluctantly let go of Keith, and the latter just raised his eyebrows questioningly at him. Instead of answering him, he looked over his shoulder at his approaching friends, a pout already forming on his face. Pidge and Hunk were making a beeline for him, their steps hurried.

“Guys-” he started, but they were relentless, Pidge holding a hand up to cut him off.

“Oh _hell_ no, we’ve been looking for you everywhere!” Only then it seemed like they noticed Keith, and their scowl was replaced with a somewhat… thoughtful expression before it morphed into a sly smile. “Hi. We’re gonna rid you of this annoyance. You’re welcome.”

“Rude,” Lance whined, his face turned towards Pidge as he heard Keith snort in response.

Hunk sent him an apologetic smile before hoisting his arms under his armpits, muttering a “Sorry dude, Matt’s waiting for us,” before dragging him the opposite way of Keith.

“Don’t think I’m done with you!” Lance called after him as his friends dragged him away, pointing between his own narrowed eyes and Keith.

“Wouldn’t dream of it,” Keith responded, a smile tugging at the corner of his lips as he lifted his chin daringly in Lance’s direction.

 

“I’m _so_ getting laid,” Lance said as soon as Keith was out of earshot, a drunk smile plastered onto his face. Pidge groaned in exasperation, hiding their face with both of their hands as if they were embarrassed on Lance’s behalf.

“Tell me once again why we’re friends with you.”

“You love me,” Lance drawled, his smile turning cocky as he found Pidge’s gaze

“I love the drama,” Pidge corrected him, dropping their hands from their face so they could open the door in front of them.

“Touché.”

“ _I_ love you,” Hunk put in, squeezing his shoulders all the while he dragged him along.

“ _Bro,_ ” Lance said, tilting his head backwards with closed eyelids as it collided with Hunk’s chest, “ _I_ love _you._ ”

“Save the PDA for later when I’m not around,” Pidge called from the front steps, not bothering to wait for them to catch up.

 

The night air was welcoming to Lance, sobering him up just the slightest as Hunk finally let him go. He took his time filling his lungs with icy air before he actually noticed the reason they were outside.

“Sure took your time,” was Matt’s way of greeting Lance, doing a half-assed salute and wearing a grin that matched Pidge’s.

Several bags were scattered around Matt, all of them brimmed with toilet paper.

Pidge had already grabbed a roll and was tossing it in their hands, patiently waiting for Lance to join in on their fun. Hunk looked like he didn’t know whether to look thrilled or sorry for whomever might get to clean up their mess.

Finally, Lance let the excitement get the better of him, and with a thrilled laugh he latched onto one himself, trying (and failing) to spin it on his index finger.

“Let’s do this!”

 

What they didn’t anticipate was how difficult it was to aim at a three stories tall mansion, but fortunately they made do with a few open windows on the second floor.

Lance’s fourth throw flew beautifully through the window closest to him, a long trail of toilet paper marking its course until it dangled securely from the window pane. He made a full round of highfives before he was back at it, his next target the terrace in front.

Pidge was busy redecorating the christmas tree, their short stance making it literally impossible for them to hit the windows (they’d asked Lance to sit on his shoulders since Hunk wasn’t too keen on the idea, but he’d declined, deeming it safer not to try stupid things while being drunk).

They covered the whole terrace, wound paper along the christmas lights on the fence and even wrapped up a few garden gnomes. Lance had wanted to go upstairs so they could cover some of the third floor windows, but neither of the Holts dared getting caught and so they made do with what they could from outside.

Once they’d gone through two-thirds of their stock on toilet paper, most of the frat was overthrown.

Matt was busy wrapping up the pillars when Lance suggested to Pidge that they should mummify Hunk. He didn’t get an answer, though, as the rest of his squad got distracted by someone crashing through the front door.

“ _Matt_!”

A bulky, handsome guy with a shock of white hair was standing at the foot of the front steps, taking in his surroundings with a mildly shocked face. Lance didn’t realize the trouble they were in until he noticed his jersey with the frat’s logo printed on front.

_Matt’s friend,_ Lance belatedly noted (whether he’d remain a friend once he realized what they’d been up to was up for discussion).

For a second it was as if time ceased to exist. A deafening silence stretched between the five of them as Matt finally seemed to realize the mess he’d gotten himself into.

“Oh s _HIT-_ ” was all Lance heard from Matt before he took off, dodging the masses of people standing in his way.

His friend was only a few seconds behind, calling out before running after him. Matt was chased down the street, his friend already quick on his heels. He yelped as he ran for what seemed like his life until he and his friend were completely out of sight.

“Maybe we should hel-” Hunk started, but he was cut off soon enough by Matt’s squeal as he was caught, his shriek audible despite the music pumping out the windows.

Lance was about to laugh at the hazzle, but just before he let it slip past his lips, he was silenced by Pidge tugging insistently at his sleeve.

“Let’s head back inside before he comes after us,” they rushed, trying to drag Lance along despite their small size.

Lance might’ve thought they were joking, but the serious expression they were wearing was enough to settle matters.

“What about Matt?” Hunk inquired worriedly, but Pidge just shook their head.

“He can take care of himself,” they answered, face stone cold.

Neither of them could find it in their hearts to object, deeming Matt a worthy sacrifice for their own sake.

The three of them hurried inside to the sound of Matt’s frantic calls, now and then overlapping with the faint sound of laughter.

 

Stepping inside was like stumbling into a wall, the clammy heat almost unbearable compared to the cold, fresh air outside.

In the meantime they’d been busy outside, everyone had gathered in front of the television that was broadcasting Time’s square live in the living room. Lance wrinkled his nose from the faint smell of sweat and cheap perfume.

Wherever he looked, his vision was restricted from anything further than two feet, and in the end the three of them decided to steer over to one of the less crowded areas. It was pure luck that he was able to stick to their side, least being able to talk with them.

Lance was starting to give up any hope of encountering his former acquaintance again. That didn’t stop his gaze from roaming the crowd, though, as he half heartedly listened in on the conversation between his two friends.

That was until Pidge spoke up in a not-so-impressed sort of tone.

“Lance? Are you even listening?”

“Huh? Yeah, yeah, su… _re,_ ” Lance halted once his eyes caught Keith across the room, indigo eyes staring right back at him.

Suddenly everyone around them started counting down.

“ _Ten!_ ” the crowd chanted, and Lance felt himself panic.

“G-guys, I have to-”

Keith raised his eyebrow at him. Lance’s breath caught in his throat, and he swallowed thickly, trying to ease his sudden nerves.

“ _Nine!_ ”

He could feel Pidge peering over his shoulder, standing on their tiptoes with their hands balancing on either shoulder as they followed his gaze before shaking their head. “Uh-oh, here comes trouble.”

“ _Eight!_ ”

_Come on,_ he thought to himself, mentally kicking himself for acting so silly, _you can do this_. A smile tugged at the corner of Keith’s lips, and that was all the signal Lance needed.

“ _Seven!_ ”

He cleared his throat and readjusted his jacket before making his way towards him, neatly avoiding the bodies standing in his way.

“ _Six!_ ”

“Didn’t fancy seeing you here,” Lance said, lips curling as he stepped into Keith’s personal space.

“ _Five!_ ”

Keith snorted before uncrossing his arms, his smile still present on his face as he sized him up.

“ _Four!_ ”

“Just shut up already,” he said, his hands already grabbing the hem of Lance’s jacket and pulling him closer.

“ _Three!_ ”

Lance was grinning by then, tilting his head downwards so their noses were aligned.

“ _Two!_ ”

Up close, Lance was surprised to find out that Keith had long lashes, becoming evident the moment his eyelids fluttered close.

“ _One!_ ”

Lance closed the distance, angling his head just right before pressing his lips gingerly on Keith’s.

 

“ _HAPPY NEW YEAR!_ ” The cheering erupted into screams of joy as the hour struck twelve.

 

Keith’s lips were surprisingly soft, moving languishly against Lance’s as if time was the least of their problems.

Despite everything being a roaring chaos around them, Lance sensed nothing but Keith. His lips moving against his. His lashes and bangs tingling his face as he leaned ever closer. His nose bumping against his now and then as they got used to each other, still eager to explore his mouth.

Lance felt a sigh escape his lips as the latter nibbled his lower lip before pulling at it gently.

Their breaths intermingled for a second as they broke apart, indigo meeting blue. A smile was shared between the two of them before they went back at it again, the kiss less hesitant and more confident this time.

It wasn’t long before the kiss changed pace as Keith let his hands run up and down Lance’s spine, the warmth of his fingers poking just underneath his shirt as they settled on his lower back.

It quickly turned borderline desperate as their lips clashed against each other anew. By the time Lance pushed his tongue against Keith’s bottom lip there was no hesitation, and Keith opened his mouth immediately, coaxing Lance to deepen the kiss.

He let his fingers run up Keith’s spine until they were fisting his hair as he pushed his tongue against the other’s, exploring his mouth the best ways he knew. Keith pushed back with as much force as Lance, not giving in the way he was used to with others.

He was intoxicating, drawing him in again and again, leaving him with a want for more every time they parted lips.

When he pulled at the strands of Keith’s hair, the latter moaned into his mouth, and Lance felt goosebumps rising on his skin.

 

Lance was lightheaded and flushed by the time Keith broke the kiss, the two of them panting heavily.

By then Keith’s composure had crumbled, his hair in a disarray and lips glowing pink. His eyes were wild, pupils dilated as he met Lance’s gaze. Lance was probably faring no better, palms sweaty and chest rising and falling in an unsteady rhythm.

The two of them settled into an eery silence as they regained their breath, waiting for the other to speak up. Then, finally,

“You live close by?”

Lance’s eyebrows rose at that. He sneaked a quick glance towards his friends before his gaze fell on Keith again.

“Uh… yeah?” His voice was embarrassingly hoarse, and he had to clear his throat before he could continue, “Why?”

Keith wetted his lips before jutting his chin towards the entrance, his eyes only leaving Lance’s for a second.

“Let’s get out of here,” was all he said, eyebrows held high.

Then, instead of bothering to wait for an answer, he turned on his heels and stalked towards the wardrobe purposefully. Their eyes met once again as he looked over his shoulder, a playful glint to his eyes that seemed to question whether he was coming or not.

Well… Lance couldn’t decline an offer like _that_.

As they gathered their stuff to leave, he found himself waving at his friends. Once he had their attention, he pointed towards Keith behind his back, trying to signal his intentions to them. Pidge shook their head incredulously while Hunk gave him a thumbs up.

He was so caught up in his nonverbal conversation with Hunk that he was startled by Keith when he grabbed his wrist and dragged him along, clearly exasperated with him.

Hunk waved at the two of them nonplussed as they left the roaring party behind.

 

* * *

 

If truth be told, Lance considered himself quite open when it came to sex.

Mind you - he didn’t sleep with every stranger he encountered, but he wasn’t exactly new to casual sex either. Besides, Keith wasn’t (despite his sad excuse for a haircut) too bad looking, and it seemed like a good idea to start the new year out with a _bang_ (pun intended).

He knew he would never hear the end of it once he met up with his friends again (he could already imagine Pidge fuming, “You left us for _sex_ on fucking _New Years Eve,_ ”), so he might as well get the best out of it while he had the chance.

The worst that could possibly happen was a bad one-night-stand, and even then he’d still have a funny story to tell the others. Besides, it was just this one time, so what could possibly go wrong?

 

The sound of fireworks and cars honking filled the empty hallway as Lance fumbled with the keys to his apartment. Keith was standing unnecessarily close to him as he waited impatiently for him to unlock the door.

“Crap,” Lance said, dropping his keys for the second time in his fickle attempt to get inside. He could practically feel Keith rolling his eyes behind his back as he bent down once more, hands scrambling in search of the keys. Finally catching them, Lance hoisted himself up by the doorknob, and this time he managed to fit the key into his lock.

Lance’s apartment wasn’t exactly small. It was just… really crammed. Cardboard boxes littered around the entrance, some of them still containing worn clothes, books and other stuff. Lance had too many shoes for just one person scattered all over his threshold, and it was with effort he avoided stepping on any of them.

The entrance was just big enough for one person, and so Keith had to wait patiently for Lance as he kicked his shoes off.

Tossing his keys onto the counter (stacked with bills and this week’s tasks as well as grocery list), Lance made his way to the kitchen (which was, in fact, also Lance’s living room, if the couch and small television in the corner counted as that). Every windowsill in sight had plants perched on them, some of the roots even overgrowing the pot and intertwining with one another (even Lance’s goddamn _plants_ lacked space).

His kitchen space was a mess as well, his old homework spread across the dinner table, and week old piles of plates and glasses overflowing the sink. His fridge was plastered with postcards, photos of friends and family, and notes reprimanding him of all the chores he still had to finish by the end of the week.

Lance heard Keith close the door behind him as he shuffled out of his shoes, seemingly taking in his surroundings in the process.

He suddenly wished he hadn’t saved his cleaning duties for the new year. He couldn’t fathom what his apartment looked like to Keith.

“So...” Lance began, clearing his throat awkwardly as he turned to face Keith, neatly blocking his view of the mess, “Should we just _get it on_ or would you like some-”

He barely got to finish his question, though, before Keith grabbed his coat by the collar and pulled him in, effectively shutting him up with his lips.

Dumbfounded, he opened his mouth in surprise, and his gasp was immediately drowned out by Keith. Taking advantage of Lance’s surprise, he deepened the kiss, his tongue exploring his mouth as he pushed him further into the room.

Lance felt the counter dig into his lower back as Keith cornered him, his kisses ruthless. He couldn’t contain his surprised moan as Keith’s teeth pulled at his lower lip without mercy, drawing out a metallic taste in Lance’s mouth.

Belatedly realizing that they were indeed _getting it on_ right away, Lance shook his coat off in one motion and tried to push Keith the short distance from the kitchen towards the bedroom purposefully.

If Lance had thought Keith would’ve been eager to be pushed around... well, he had another thing coming.

As they made their way across the kitchen, Keith trapped Lance against whatever corner or surface he might find instead, his hands already fumbling at Lance’s zipper as he nibbled at his earlobe.

Lance groaned, somewhere in between pleasure and annoyance as he eased himself off the table top once again, trying to pry Keith’s hands off him while muttering, “ _Not_ in the kitchen.”

Taking matters into his own hands, Lance managed to steer Keith in the right direction, and when Keith tried to push him flush against the wall, he managed to grab the collar of Keith’s shirt and literally dragged him his way.

This time Keith finally gave in, stumbling after Lance into the bedroom.

They barely made it inside before he rid Keith of his shirt, eagerly pulling it over his head until the latter complied with his arms raised. A shove later and he finally had him sprawled on his bed.

Seemingly satisfied, Lance wasted no time. Shedding his jeans as well as hooking his shirt up over his shoulders in one swift movement, he balled it into his fists and tossed it to the side of the room before climbing on top of Keith.

As he straddled Keith’s waist, Lance felt nails boring into his back, trailing his spine and undoubtedly leaving marks on their way. He bucked his hips from the touch, the sensation going straight to his groin.

When Keith moaned from the friction he arched an eyebrow wickedly, a smirk finding its way to his lips. He teasingly ground his hips down on Keith, testing the latter’s self-control.

He only smirked wider when Keith growled in utter frustration before he grabbed Lance by the waist, and he willingly followed him down as he tugged at him persistently.

Balancing his weight with an elbow on either side of Keith’s face, Lance leaned in and closed Keith’s mouth with his.

The kiss was messy, spit gathered in the corner of his mouth, but Lance couldn’t care any less, all of his attention directed at the guy sprawled underneath him.

Keith’s tongue was warm against his as it slid inside, swirling on top of his tongue before exploring the roof of his mouth. Lance hummed into the kiss, taking in the lingering taste of alcohol on Keith’s tongue.

As soon as Keith started relaxing into his touch, Lance wasted no time exploring every surface of skin Keith showed with his hands.

He was toned - biceps and upper arms bulkier than what his shirt had let him believe, his abs satisfyingly hard beneath his touch. His skin was starkly pale compared to his own, making his flush all the more visible in the dimly lit room. Lance took great pleasure in this, watching how marks easily bloomed across his skin from the simplest scratches.

He took a moment to admire his work, leaning slightly away from Keith’s frame to get a good view.

One moment Lance had been in complete control. The next he wasn’t.

Keith took his chance and flipped him onto his back, a wicked grin on his lips when Lance yelped in surprise. Reluctant to give in immediately, Lance brought his hands up towards Keith’s shoulders, but before he could reach his target, the latter grabbed hold of his wrists and held them high above his head, his hands grazing the bed frame.

“Not so cocky now, are we?”

Lance opened his mouth to answer but thought better of it once Keith leaned in, their faces barely inches apart. Instead he opted to huff in faux annoyance. Breath fanned over his face as Keith chuckled before he finally closed the distance.

His mouth was instantly on his own, bruising and warm and so agonizingly sweet. Keith impatiently nibbled at his lips again and again, his teeth raking over them until they came away swollen and red.

His breath came out ragged in-between kisses, his eyes glazed with want as they held gazes.

Lance tilted his head back as Keith’s lips strayed, slowly working their way down his throat and collarbone. All the while he teasingly put pressure on Lance’s groin, he left painful hickeys and teeth marks on his body that had him digging his nails into Keith’s wrist, leaving crescent moon prints all over sensitive skin. He always came back for more, though, shutting up Lance’s grunts, each kiss more overwhelming than the other.

Unable to stop himself, Lance found himself impatiently rocking his hips against Keith’s. His reaction was instantaneous, his breath hitching in his throat all the while Lance moaned, the friction alone making him half hard. Lance felt a significant heat spread in his lower gut, coaxing him to go on.

Freeing his hands from Keith’s grasp, Lance grabbed hold of his hips and thrust his pelvis up experimentally, watching how it made Keith’s game crumble, his eyes closing deliriously as his eyelashes fluttered against his cheekbones.

Working the buttons on Keith’s pants, Lance was satisfied to find out that he had left quite an impression, and Keith was more than happy to oblige when Lance started tugging them down. Pants off, Lance let his finger tentatively run along Keith’s clothed length, making him open his eyes in a shudder.

Keith was breathing heavily, his expression borderline desperate as he held Lance’s gaze, and the latter smiled coyly.

“You like this?”

He teasingly rubbed his finger against the fabric, reveling in the gasps that Keith gave in reply.

“Just- _ah-_ ” Keith clenched his eyes shut, his breath catching in his throat.

Even he could only tease Keith for so long.

Keith’s breath stuttered to a halt when he let his hands slip beneath his boxers, gripping him firmly in his grasp.

He pushed his back up from the mattress, straddling Keith until they were sitting chest to chest, faces so close that Lance could feel warm breath tickling his neck. Keith was easy to give in, tilting his head towards Lance before he closed the distance.

His mouth was hungry on Lance’s, coaxing him on. He tried to fight his smirk off as he leaned in to Keith’s kisses, taking his time before going off track.

As Lance traced kisses along his jaw and neck, he ever so slowly started stroking him, building a steady rhythm with each kiss. He made sure to linger at every hickey, the pressure of his open-mouthed kisses causing Keith to shudder. Grazing his adam's apple with his lips, Lance was startled to hear a barely contained moan escape his mouth.

The noise Keith made in the back of his throat was enough to make him keenly aware that he was still wearing his boxers, the fabric straining against his growing bulge. Lance cursed himself inwardly for not getting rid of them already.

It was as if Keith had read his thoughts. One moment his hands were tangled in his hair, the next he ran them down his spine before he felt fingers slip beneath his boxers and digging into his asscheeks.

Lance gasped out loud, clearly surprised by the sudden interest. Meeting his gaze, he found Keith raising an eyebrow at him in challenge.

_Oh. So that’s how we’re playing, huh?_

Keith hoisted his arms under Lance’s knees, forcing him to let go of him as his weight was shifted back onto the mattress. He cursed as Keith went for a roll with his hips, his fingers clenching the bedsheets underneath him. The thin fabric of his boxers did nothing to conceal the feeling of Keith’s length pressed against his own, and it sent an electric buzz through his body.

Keith leaned over him, reaching over his head until Lance felt pillows shoved under his back. By then his legs had been maneuvered up on Keith’s shoulders, ankles crossed and dangling midair.

“F _uck_ …” Lance clenched his eyes shut as Keith bit down, sucking at the sensitive skin on his inner thighs. Keith was surprisingly strong, the muscles in his upper arms barely strained as his hands balanced most of Lance’s weight around his waist.

Lance couldn’t contain the whine that slipped past his lips as he met Keith’s gaze, his face so close to his crotch he could feel his breath on top of his boxers.

He took a sharp intake of breath when Keith brushed his face against his erection, running his mouth against his clothed length until Lance was sure his boxers were damp from more than just Keith’s mouth. It was nerve wrecking, making him gasp and stutter underneath his touch.

It was almost a relief when he lowered his legs, getting his face out of the way as he rid him of his boxers. Lance was panting by then, his competitiveness completely gone, replaced with a desperate need.

Their eyes locked for a second, and Keith had the decency to look smug as he shifted Lance’s knees up over his shoulder, lowering his head until he swallowed him whole.

When Lance clenched his eyes shut, he was sure he saw stars behind his eyelids.

 

Later, when both of them had gotten off, the two of them were lying on their backs gasping for air, sweat cooling off their backs.

“ _Woah,_ ” Lance whispered, amazed, as he pushed himself off the mattress, “You sure know how to use your mouth.”

The gaze Keith sent his way was unimpressed as Lance shot him a shiteating grin. He stretched his arms over his head, sighing as his joints popped satisfyingly.

Taking one last glance, Lance finally pushed himself off the bed, slowly making his way towards the kitchen. He faltered by the doorframe, though, when he heard Keith shift on the bed, possibly facing him.

“Where’re you going?”

“The kitchen?” Lance shrugged, turning towards Keith, “To fetch some water?”

The catlike grin Keith sent him came slowly, working its way to the corner of his mouth.

“What?” he crooned, his voice husky as he hoisted himself up on his elbows so he could meet Lance’s gaze, “You need a break already?”

Lance could practically feel his smile falter as the words seemed to sink in.

_Oh_.

… Needless to say, Lance did, in fact, not need a break. Or water for that matter.

Scrambling into bed once again, Lance pinned him down on the mattress as he pressed a lingering kiss to the corner of his mouth.

“Who said anything about a break?” he muttered, leaning down to pull at Keith’s lower lip with his teeth. “I could go on all night.”

Keith shifted under his grasp, eyes daring as he sized him up.

“Prove it,” he said, and Lance was more than happy to comply.

 

* * *

 

The night had grown silent by the time Keith started collecting his clothes. Lance was watching him from underneath his warm duvet in silence, taking in how his muscles flexed in his shoulders as he dressed himself.

His room was a mess by then, clothes and bed sheets rumpled and strewn all over the floor. Definitely not something Lance was looking forward to clean up the next day.

The air had grown tense, if not a bit awkward, as neither of them were sure how they were supposed to part ways.

Lance stretched in his bed, painfully aware of how Keith was watching his every move.

“So, uh…”

Keith didn’t pick up on his words, just continued to regard him.

“This has been… fun.” It wasn’t supposed to be phrased as a question, but somehow his hesitation and the dip at the end made it sound that way.

Keith furrowed his brows, still awfully silent.

Lance cleared his throat, forcing himself to continue.

“Well… in case you want more,” he drawled, faking confidence as he leaned forward on his elbows with a wink, “You know where to find me.”

Keith finally tore his gaze away from Lance with a roll of his eyes as he turned around to leave.

“Right.”

In the end he sent him off just like that, half a wave from the bed as Keith left his apartment. No phone numbers exchanged. No strings attached.

 

* * *

 

In retrospect, Lance shouldn’t have drunk so much.

Lance woke up with a dry mouth and a dull headache already pounding against his skull. He groaned half heartedly, trying to cover his eyes with his duvet to shield his oversensitive senses.

Half an hour later and no better, he had to face the inevitable and finally got up.

He started off with a shower, groaning as the scalding water pleasantly drummed against his skull, taking the worst of his migraine as well as cleansing him of sweat and other sticky messes.

Once he’d applied his usual moisturizer he slipped into his bathrobe, walking barefoot into the kitchen to prepare a pot of coffee. While brewing it, he proceeded to dump a spoonful of sugar in his cup.

The sweet taste made him sigh contently, his hangover forgotten for the moment. Although the coffee made a significant difference, he still took an aspirin and a glass of water afterwards, and as the minutes ticked by he finally started to feel like an actual human being. By then the only remembrance of the other night was his disheveled state and the massive pile of dirty laundry in the corner of his room.

As much as Lance liked late mornings spent on doing absolutely nothing, he knew he eventually had to start cleaning up, hungover or not. It only reminded him of the harsher truth - holiday was almost over, uni was starting in two weeks and Lance had a lot of reading to catch up to.

Basically that meant that he would have to cut down on the drinking, partying, and definitely no more hooking up with strangers.

Keith might’ve been really… _really_ hot, but that was practically all there was to him - he was hot, but he was a hot _stranger_ (Lance wouldn’t go as long as to call him an acquaintance - he’d only seen him once, after all).

And even though that had been some of the greatest sex Lance’d had in a while, and as much as he wanted to get to know him, he probably wouldn’t see more of him anytime soon.

 

* * *

 

Or so he thought.

Keith, apparently, had other plans.

 

* * *

 

Lance was on his third cup of coffee, trying to read ahead for next semester when he was disturbed by a knock on his door. Which was pretty weird, since Lance wasn’t expecting anyone.

… Right?

He cast a glance at his phone on his side, checking for any messages or hints. Yeah. No plans.

It didn’t explain the knocking, though.

He was tempted to ignore it, figuring that it might be a salesman. On the other hand he was too distracted to go back to reading now, especially when another knock came from the door.

With a final sigh he pushed himself off his chair before making his way towards the door, his gaze scrutinizing it as if he could look straight through the door to whoever was standing on the other side.

Which happened to be--

No one, apparently.

_What._

“Hello?” Lance cocked his head outside the door, confusion clear in his voice. But then, just before it was to late, he caught a flicker of movement from the corner of his eyes, and he turned to see a silhouette rounding the corner towards the exit.

_Fucking pranksters._

Except, just as he was about to close the door, the figure stopped.

Except the guy hovered for a second at the exit, then backtracked until he was in Lance’s sight.

As he turned around, Lance’s eyes immediately jumped to the sharp jawline, the dark bangs that almost hid intense indigo eyes he swore he’d-

Oh. _Oh._

… Really, the awful, red Doc Martens gave him away. That was definitely what caught Lance’s eye. Yeah.

For a moment none of them spoke, just stared each other down almost testily. Then, eventually as if he couldn’t take the silence anymore, the guy - _Keith,_ he reminded himself - gave in.

“Hey,” he said, his demeanor almost hesitant as if he hadn’t been the one to knock on his door barely a minute ago.

“… Keith, right?” Lance said, a smile catching his lips, “From New Year’s Eve?”

“I, uh, yeah,” Keith cleared his throat, a hand coming up to scratch his neck awkwardly as he suddenly averted Lance’s gaze. Probably unsure of what to say.

“I did tell you to come back, didn’t I,” Lance mused, confidence pushing him to lean seductively against the doorframe as he looked Keith over.

And there it was - the exasperated roll to Keith’s eyes he’d come to associate with him during New Year’s Eve. He shook his head incredulously, almost as if he couldn’t believe himself that he’d actually _come._

“Don’t get used to it,” he said, although his lips did quirk in the corner as he casually trudged his way over to Lance’s side, his posture a lot more relaxed now that the tension had eased.

“Never would have,” Lance responded easily, a smirk on his face as he held the door open for Keith, who had to get in close proximity to move past Lance and into the apartment.

 

Except Lance would get used to it. Because Keith showed up again a few days later.

… And once again after that.

And again. _Again_.

 

Lance might’ve been oblivious to many things, but he wasn’t a fool. It wasn’t long before he realized that this wasn’t the one-night-stand he’d previously suspected, but rather a recurring thing. And... _wow_ , he didn’t mind that.

It wasn’t just the two of them drunkenly fooling around and groping each other like it’d been on New Year’s Eve, no. It was far more intoxicating.

The mattress creaking underneath the weight of another. Lips teasing and biting into overly sensitive skin, bruising and without mercy. Breaths quickening, breaths getting caught in their throats. Hips bucking against one another. Backs arching off the mattress. Words and laughs drowned out by kisses and moans as they got to explore each other’s turn-ons. The two of them chasing the simplest yet greatest of pleasures.

If Lance hadn’t been intrigued by Keith before, he definitely was now.

They weren’t exactly dating - it was all physical, a nice screw once or twice a week. After all, Keith was a handsome guy, so it didn’t really matter how close they were (or the lack of closeness, that was). If anything, it made things easier if not exciting - no expectations he had to live up to, no complicated feelings. And, as Lance reminded himself, he could always break it off.

Keith wasn’t his first fuck buddy, and he probably wasn’t going to be his last. Sure, most of Lance’s casual sex partners only stopped by once every three months (whenever someone decided to pass by frequently, one out of two things happened: one, drama hit the ceiling, or two, the sex became less exciting). Keith might’ve been an exception to this, but that didn’t have to make him any different from the others.

 

* * *

 

“So… he just shows up at your door?” Pidge squinted at him, adjusting their glasses as they sat in the cafeteria eating lunch.

“Yup.”

“Do you know where he lives?” More squinting.

“Nope.”

“What’s his major?”

“Dunno.”

Pidge sighed in frustration, dropping their sandwich onto the table in favor of tugging at their hair strands.

“Lance, what do you even _know?_ ”

Lance smirked.

“His name is Keith,” he said, leaning over the table as if telling a secret, “And he sure loves it when I suck his-”

“ _Lance._ ” The look Pidge sent him was exasperated. Hunk looked mildly terrified, hand covering his mouth.

He shrugged.

“Why does it even matter? It’s just casual. I’m not, like, _marrying_ the guy. Geez.”

The cafeteria was buzzing with loud chatter, and Lance had to strain to hear his friends whenever they said anything.

Pidge was staring at him skeptically while they ate, not exactly trusting his words.

“Is it ever casual with you?” their frown deepened, their words probably softer than intended. Even Hunk seemed worried as the two of them shared glances, before he hesitantly joined in.

“I mean, we just don’t want to see you get hurt, man.” His eyes spoke a sincerity that left Lance quiet for a second, and he looked between his two friends cautiously.

“Thanks for the concern,” Lance said, taking a bite of his sandwich before continuing, “But I know what I’m doing.”

“It’s just… You know, last we heard of Nyma-”

Lance choked on his food.

“ _Don’t-_ ” Lance warned after coughing for the last thirty seconds, raising his hand to cut Hunk off, “Speak her name in front of me.” A few worried glances from the other tables were sent his way, but he stubbornly ignored them.

Hunk looked thoughtful for a moment before opening his mouth, “But what about-”

“No, Hunk! Not helping!”

Pidge spread their hands wide, gesturing towards Lance.

“My point exactly.”

Lance groaned, fed up with his friends’ concern.

Okay, so he’d had some nasty breakups in his past (most of which had ended up with him locked up in his apartment for a week with only Ben & Jerry’s for company), but that didn’t mean he hadn’t _learned_ from his mistakes.

“So what,” he grumbled before pushing his tray away from himself, his lunch finished. “I got my heart broken. Doesn’t mean it’s gonna happen twice.”

“Thrice,” Pidge pointed out, at which Lance huffed in defeat.

“Whatever, guys.” He sat up on the tray’s former spot, his posture hunched as he eyed the two of them. “I’m not, like, _twelve._ I can handle my own life, thank you very much.”

Pidge rolled their eyes in return, but the smile Hunk sent him was genuine.

“If you say so,” he said, leaving it at that.

They changed subject then, discussing a project Pidge had started the other week beside their schoolwork.

Lance couldn’t help but be impressed that they actually had the time for it, but on the other hand he shouldn’t really be surprised. He doubted they’d had any sleep at all with all the stuff they were currently doing, but they seemed to do well enough. It was still too early in the semester for any of them to be sleep deprived (or, at least too early for it to be visible).

Before he knew it lunch had passed, and his friends were quickly off to their next lecture. With still two hours until his next lecture, Lance decided to use his spare time well and placed his books onto the table with a begrudging huff. He might as well read ahead while he had the time for it.

And if he only managed to read a few paragraphs because his mind was distracted with thoughts of his new acquaintance… well, no one needed to know.

 

* * *

 

Keith fit himself snugly into his everyday life.

In the midst of stressing at university, working at the grocery store, hanging out with his friends or just staying in his apartment, he was occasionally disturbed by a hard knock on the door. Lips would smash into his the moment the door opened, and Lance let himself be pushed towards the bedroom, Keith obviously impatient as he tugged at the waistband of his jeans.

“Happy to see me?” Lance purred in between kisses, a smile reaching his lips.

“Shut up,” Keith grumbled, less dignified.

“Make me,” was Lance’s answer, eyeing Keith daringly.

He did just that.

He was all teeth and aggression. Lance had barely been pushed onto his mattress before Keith was over him, hand holding him down by the shoulder as he sucked hickeys onto his neck. He was merciless when it came to his fading bruises, giving them extra attention until new lovebites overlapped them, angry nuances against tan skin.

“Keith, I- ah, _shit_ -”

Lance clenched his eyes shut when Keith bit down on a particularly sore spot, sucking at his sensitive skin until a whine escaped his lips. With a wet pop he leveled his head from his chest, a smug smile tainting his lips.

“What?” he crooned, head cocking to the side, “Already had enough?”

Lance opened his mouth to answer, but then Keith ground his hips down against his, and his words were replaced with a surprised moan.

“Thought so,” Keith bent forward, his voice breathless against his ear. Lance felt a significant heat spread in the pit of his stomach as he bucked his hips against his once again, earning another grunt.

This guy was going to be the death of him.

 

With Keith, sex was rough. There was no time for tender kisses, lingering touches nor sweet words. The sex was great, though (some of the greatest sex Lance had ever had, if he was completely honest), and he was sure Keith felt the same way if his noises were anything to go by.

He was blunt, borderline shameless when it came to Lance’s neighbours. (Lance had once made the mistake of telling Keith to keep it low one night, at which he’d in spite made Lance almost bite his hand off trying to stifle his own moans. He’d avoided any eye contact with his neighbours for the rest of that week. He was, in fact, still avoiding them).

 

Keith came and went as he pleased. Whether it was a weekday or weekend, he always found the time to come by at least twice a week. Lance almost felt compelled to leave a message on his door every time he was out just in case Keith decided to pass by.

While he was usually good at timing it just right, there were times where their schedules clashed.

The thing was, Lance had a lot of scheduled things he _had_ to do during the week. He had work at the grocery store, his weekly calls home to his parents, and study group sessions with his classmates - y’know, things like that. But his and Keith’s thing was kind of _flexible_ (in more ways than one, _heh_ ), and he never really knew when to expect him to show up.

That didn’t mean he didn’t try to work around his tight schedules (Lance wouldn’t pass up the chance once he got it).

 

“I shouldn’t.” Lance hovered by the doorway, contemplating whether or not to slam the door shut before Keith could say anything else. The latter seemed to make up his mind before him, though.

“Why not?”

Lance huffed. “ _Because._ My friends are coming over in, like, 15 minutes.”

He didn’t like the way Keith’s lips curled at that, the sight making heat coil in his lower gut. _Shit._ “Do you need more than 15 minutes?”

He tried to find it in him to object. He really did. But Lance was _weak,_ especially when it came to Keith.

At the latter’s raised eyebrow he found himself giving in, and with a defeated sigh he ushered him inside.

“Okay, _fine._ 15 minutes and you’re out!”

 

Exactly 20 minutes later, reveling in his afterglow, Lance regretted thinking with his dick when he heard the unmistakable chatter from his friends outside of his door.

“Oh nonono _no-_ ” He shot out of the shower, spraying water all over the place as he reached for the nearest towel. He cursed himself inwardly for his wobbly legs, threatening to give out for each move he made.

“Hmm?” Keith was still standing underneath the scalding water, looking at Lance’s panicked state with a hint of amusement behind his eyes.

“My friends, they’re-” the sound of his friends knocking on his door had a startled yelp escape Lance’s mouth, and he was quickly at Keith’s side, turning the water off as he frantically threw a towel at him to cover him up, “Quick, do something!”

Despite looking mildly alarmed, Keith was shaking from withholding his laughter as Lance dried himself in his frenzy, caught between doing his skincare routine or cleaning up his mess. Lance couldn’t ignore the knocking forever, though, and eventually he had to give up.

“Just- I don’t know, stay in here. Keep quiet!” he hissed before closing the door shut.

He ignored Keith’s laughter as he half-ran through the apartment, picking up the trail of clothes and throwing it inside his bedroom to hide their evidence.

“Two seconds!” He shouted as response to the third, not-quite patient knock that came from his door as he dressed in record time. He was still working on the buttons on his pants as he hurried to the entrance.

As soon as Keith’s laughter had quieted down, Lance opened the door for his friends to come inside.

“Sorry for the wait!” Lance stepped aside as his friends made their way inside, shrugging out of their coats. “I decided to take a shower and forgot time… yeah.”

“Dude, it’s alright,” Hunk answered, a genuine smile on his face as he waited for Pidge to move out of the way. Lance visibly relaxed when none of them prodded any further. Now, he just needed them to-

He heard a snicker behind him.

“Nice jacket,” Pidge commented, lips curling wickedly as they held a leather jacket up that very much didn’t belong to him. He immediately stilled, expression betraying him like a deer caught in headlights. _Shit._ How could he have forgotten his goddamn _jacket?!_

He opened his mouth, mind fighting for an excuse. “I…” His Adam’s apple bobbed nervously as he tried to meet Pidge’s stare evenly. “I got it from a thrift store.”

He stopped in his tracks when he heard the unmistakable sound of Keith’s disgruntled huff. Praying that his friends hadn’t heard, he quickly continued, this time louder in order to drown Keith out. “Now- Why don’t we go to the grocery store and buy some snacks, yeah?”

“Already brought some.” Hunk lifted his bag suggestively as Pidge trudged inside the apartment, surveying it with a scrutinizing gaze.

Lance shuffled nervously on his feet, trying to come up with an excuse for them to leave the apartment.

“What about popcorn?”

Pidge frowned. “I thought you said you had popcorn.”

“I ran out,” he lied.

“Can’t we just go without popcorn?”

“No, nope. Popcorn’s the most important part of movie night! Besides,” at this, Lance dug his employee card out of his bag, jiggling it in front of Pidge and Hunk, “I can get us discount!”

For a moment none of them spoke, and Lance was convinced that he’d lost. But then,

“Fine.” Pidge sighed defeatedly, turning around to grab their coat once again. Lance contained himself from almost crying at the pure relief that overtook him, thanking whatever otherworldly powers that seemed to take his favor.

“Before we go,” Hunk started, and Lance stopped draping his jacket on mid-way, already  
dreading the follow-up, “I really gotta pee.”

And Hunk, who couldn’t possibly know that Keith was hiding half naked on the other side of the door, obviously didn’t wait for Lance’s answer. Instead, he eagerly reached his hand towards the door handle-

“ _NO!_ ” Lance frantically threw himself in Hunk’s direction, pure terror written all over his face. Hunk opened his mouth in surprise, a follow-up question right on his tongue.

He never got to ask the question, though. Both of them were immediately silenced by the loud thump inside the bathroom followed by a string of curse words as the sound of Lance’s shampoo bottles crashing to the bathroom tiles echoed from the door. And then, when no one spoke a word, a muffled “ _Fuck._ ”.

For a second there was a deafening silence. Then Pidge burst out laughing, bending over as they clung to their knees for balance.

“Oh my God,” they wheezed, echoing Hunk’s surprise with a touch of mirth to their tone as the latter stood dumbfounded in the background, eyebrows still touching his hairline.

Then, finally, Hunk seemed to catch on.

“Oh my God,” he exclaimed, eyes bulging, “ _Oh my God._ LANCE!”

“It’s not what you’re-” Lance backtracked, taking a deep breath in through his nose before continuing, “You know what, it’s _exactly_ what you’re thinking, it’s just...” he made a frustrated noise, pinching the bridge of his nose as he closed his eyes. “Can we please pretend this didn’t just happen?”

Pidge was still fighting for breath, hands braced against their knees. “Are you seriously telling me that-”

“ _Yes._ Can we please talk about something else now?” Lance squirmed uncomfortably under his two friends’ gazes, trying not to act as flustered as he felt.

“Never,” Pidge answered, a smile cracking across their face as they slowly regained their posture, “You know I’ll never let you live through this.”

“I _know,_ ” Lance whined, and he must have sounded so pathetic that his friends finally took some pity on him. With one last snort in Lance’s direction Pidge shook their head, muttering something he couldn’t hear under their breath.

“Does this mean I can’t take a piss before we leave?” Hunk added hesitantly, eyeing the door to the bathroom warily as if it might burst open on its own. Lance scratched his neck awkwardly, stepping away to give Hunk some space.

“Actually… I’ve got popcorn in the cabinets. I just needed an excuse to leave the apartment.”

“Nuh-uh, we’re leaving.” Pidge was working on the laces of their shoes, only glancing up briefly at their friends as they spoke. “You promised us discount and I’m craving some Reese’s cups.”

“ _Alllllright,_ ” Lance said, glancing apologetically at Hunk as he walked towards the entrance, “Guess we’re leaving then. Better hold it in for a little longer, buddy.”

Hunk groaned miserably, but joined them anyway.

 

They’d barely entered the apartment again before Hunk barrelled through, shouting “ _Oh sweet Jesus,_ ” as he made a beeline for the toilet, running right past Keith who was busy putting on his socks.

Speaking of…

“Hey,” Lance said, cursing inwardly when his voice came out a bit winded, “You still here?”

“Yeah.” Keith glanced up at Lance once, brows creased into a frown as he returned to the task at hand. When Lance didn’t respond, he gestured vaguely at his socks, then elaborated, “Couldn’t find my clothes…”

“Oh…” Lance scratched his neck awkwardly, not really knowing how to respond. “Sorry ‘bout that.”

“S’ fine. I should probably get going anyway.” He cleared his throat awkwardly, not even meeting Lance’s gaze this time.

He seemed almost self-conscious if not… embarrassed. Lance felt himself frown in concern, and for a second he was tempted to ask if something was wrong. But then again, Keith was literally doing the walk of shame in its primest example, and Lance was only too aware of his friends’ presence looming in the background.

A distant flush was heard from inside the bathroom, and Hunk emerged soon after, visibly more relaxed.

“Sure you don’t wanna hang out?” Pidge suddenly spoke up, a sly smile tugging at the corner of their lips as they stepped around Lance, arms clutching their shopping bag. “We’ve got snacks.”

Lance’s head immediately whipped towards his friend, eyes boring into the side of their head as they locked gazes with Keith. _What_ were they _thinking?!_ When did they decide on this?

Lance was doing his best to transmit _betrayal_ telepathically to Pidge, but before he had the chance to get their attention, though, Keith answered.

“Nah, I’m good. I’ve got a shift in half an hour anyway.”

“Your loss,” was Pidge’s answer. Then, towards Lance, “I’ll just grab my laptop and get the movie started.”

Lance nodded absentmindedly in response to Pidge, and they immediately trudged over to the couch to fiddle with their computer.

He was still stuck on the whole _Pidge-asked-Keith-to-stay-over_ thing and the relief he’d felt afterwards when Keith declined. The last thing he needed was for his friends to sit through the most awkward movie night of his life with his goddamn _fuck buddy_ (Pidge, what the heck?)

Yet, as his gaze slowly found Keith with his back turned, eyes trained on the door as he struggled with his jacket, he felt the unmistakable churn of bitter disappointment in the pit of his stomach.

He was almost certain that Keith was lying. Otherwise he wouldn’t have shown up. And… okay, Lance didn’t particularly want him to stay (not right now, at least), but the fact that Keith didn’t even consider it almost (no, he realized, _definitely_ ) made him disappointed. But Lance couldn’t be disappointed… right? _Right?_

Lance was about to join Pidge when he felt a nudge to his side, and when he turned around he was surprised to find Hunk standing right next to him.

His eyes were narrowed down on Lance meaningfully, jutting his chin in Keith’s direction over and over. When Lance just shrugged in his direction, nonplussed by his insistence, he resolved to jabbing an elbow into his side, this time with more force.

He had to fight with everything within him not to whine at him, and he pouted at Hunk, silently portraying his hurt. When Hunk only smiled smugly in return, Lance gave up with a defeated sigh.

Clearly exasperated with him, Lance pointed one accusing finger in Hunk’s direction as if to say _I’m doing this for you_ before he made his way over to Keith.

“Oh well,” he opted to say, his voice loud enough for his friends to hear as well. He patiently waited for Keith to get dressed with an arm leaning against the wall. When Keith was done lacing his boots Lance unlocked the door, and with one hand propped against it he held it open for him. “In that case, I guess I’ll see you around?”

“I- uh, yeah. I guess.” Keith coughed into his hand, shuffling his feet in a nervous fit that made even Lance restless.

For a moment he lingered in the doorway, almost as if contemplating whether to add something more. Then, as if deciding against it, he turned on his heel, leaving Lance to stand by himself in the doorway.

Lance didn’t close the door before he was completely out of sight. He stood there for a good few seconds, head leaning against the doorframe as he mentally prepared himself for the bullshit his friends were going to put him through.

With a final sigh he made his way over to the couch where his friends were waiting patiently. Pidge was still fiddling with their laptop while Hunk was smiling innocently at him, watching his every move.

He made as if to sit down, but before he had the chance Pidge spoke up. “Sure you don’t need a pillow for that?”

“Fuck you,” Lance spat, but there was no bite to it.

Pidge barked a laugh once again, shaking their head in their mirth. “I can’t believe we almost walked in on you guys-”

“Don’t,” Lance begged, desperate for them to change subject, “Just don’t.”

“Just warn us next time,” they said, already turning their focus towards their computer.

Too embarrassed to face his friends, he found himself hiding his face with his hands, groaning in despair. “I’ll keep it in mind.”

 

* * *

 

“Do you know where he works?” Pidge asked him later, when the worst tension had worn off and they were halfway through the movie. They were investigating one of the bowls for leftover popcorn, eyeing a half-popped corn skeptically.

“Dude, I didn’t even know he had a job,” he answered, and Pidge shook their head incredulously before giving up on the bowl, instead turning around to look at him with raised eyebrows.

“I don’t even know why I’m surprised.”

 

* * *

 

As much as Lance wanted to concentrate on the movie, his mind couldn’t help but wander off to treacherous places.

With Hunk and Pidge’s sudden interest in playing the matchmaker as well as Keith’s weird behavior, he found himself contemplating all the _what ifs_.

Mind you - Lance wasn’t in love (nuh-uh, not even close!). It was all hypothetical thinking. If anything, Lance just wanted to get to know Keith better - and hey, maybe then they’d even grow to become friends. It was just… With Pidge’s insistent inquiring about Keith, Lance couldn’t help but notice how he didn’t know anything specific about him.

Despite Keith’s frequent visits, they never talked about their personal lives. It wasn’t like they didn’t talk at _all_ , per se (Lance couldn’t keep his mouth shut even if it meant his life).

The thing was… it wasn’t more than nervous blabbering from Lance’s side and nothing more than side remarks from Keith. Which would’ve been completely fine if not for the fact that Keith wasn’t a stranger anymore. Not exactly, so to speak.

It didn’t sit right with Lance, being this intimate with someone, knowing their body almost better than one’s own, and still not even knowing basic things like their last name. But for whatever reason, neither of them had taken the opportunity to open up about themselves, and eventually it’d been too late to bring up.

They might’ve built their relationship primarily on the physical, but it was weird having sex with someone he barely knew.

So what, Keith liked being mysterious and Lance might like fighting to get to know him, but for exactly how long was he going to keep this game going? It was getting old, and at this point he was starting to suspect that he’d never actually get to know Keith.

It might be that Lance didn’t want Keith to be different from the others, but there was no one stopping Keith from doing just that by himself.

He wasn’t supposed to be different. Lance wouldn’t _let_ him.

So he decided to try his hardest to break routine in order to unveil the mystery of Keith.

 

* * *

 

Unveiling Keith’s story was, of course, easier said than done. If there was anything Keith enjoyed, it was evading whatever Lance wanted from him, especially if he was being obvious about it. But Lance wasn’t just joking around - he was ready to give it his everything.

If Keith didn’t wanna talk… well, he’d have to make him one way or the other.

His first attempt included two glasses of red wine and full volume jazz on the radio to create a certain mood. When the glasses went unnoticed, he made sure to carry them with him to the door the next time, just to have them smacked out of his hands when Keith all but crashed into him (rest in fucking pieces, Lance’s nice white carpet).

Supposedly, he’d have to ditch the red wine in order to get Keith’s attention.

Lance tried ignoring him in pure spite. What he hadn’t anticipated, though, was his own inability to keep quiet as well as Keith’s inability to care (he barely made it one day with that strategy. Way to go).

When Keith didn’t seem content on talking before nor after sex, Lance changed tactics. He tried fighting back, tried creating distance between their lips, tried talking during sex, all to no avail- all of his attempts were ignored, much to Lance’s dismay. He wasn’t used to being ignored long term and he sure as hell wasn’t going to start by accepting Keith’s distractions for an answer.

It didn’t take long for Keith to catch on. But instead of letting Lance get his way, he closed off even further.

At first it was subtle reactions, like a roll to his eyes or a heavy sigh. Later, he grew almost hostile, snarky replies that prodded at his weak spots.

In the end, instead of staying over, instead of even _saying_ anything, he just left. It seemed like they had barely finished, heart still pounding in Lance’s chest, before he was out of bed, no time wasted on regaining his breath, no time wasted on coffees or smalltalk. He just retrieved his clothes discarded on the floor and left without a word.

It was getting to a point where Lance was getting tired of constantly being shut off, all his advances being deflected with a shove towards the bed. This guy, demanding to be a part of his life, yet separating him completely from his own. It was infuriating how they managed to go on for weeks, yet Lance knew nothing about him apart from what he’d learned on New Year’s Eve.

 

It all escalated one night when Keith had been more passive than usual, avoiding eye contact and being unusually quiet (which was saying a lot, since, you know, he didn’t talk that much to begin with). Despite everything, Lance still found himself grabbing his wrist, just as he was about to hoist himself off the bed.

Keith tried tugging his arm free of his grasp, but when Lance didn’t loosen his grip, he received a scowl.

“What?” he said, putting some force into that one word. Lance was relentless, though, determined to get through to Keith.

“Hey, why don’t you, uh, stay for a while?”

At first Keith just stared at him as if not comprehending his words. When he finally did, though, he pulled his wrist back, running his fingers through his messy hair with visible annoyance.

“Why? So we can _talk?_ ” Lance furrowed his eyebrows, neither liking nor understanding the disapproving tone of Keith’s voice.

“Yes?”

“Do I have to spell it out?” Keith spat, leaning into Lance’s space in a threatening manner as he enunciated each word, “Back. Off.”

“What is _your problem?_ ” Lance snapped, finally giving in to his frustrations as he pushed himself up on the mattress, “All I do is _ask,_ just like any other human being! Why can’t we just have _one_ normal conversation without you snapping at me?”

“ _My_ problem?” Keith fumed, prodding a finger harshly onto Lance’s chest, “I don’t owe you anything! I’ve known you for what, two months now? Do you expect me to just spill everything out?”

“I’m not asking for your life story, man! I just want to get to know you. Is that too much to ask?”

“Fuck off,” he growled, almost falling out of bed in his fury as he hurried to pick up his clothes.

“Who _are_ you, Keith?” Lance called after him as he stormed out of his bedroom, but there was no response.

The door was slammed on his way out. Lance was left in an eery silence.

 

Burying his head into his pillow, Lance screamed until his throat was sore.

 

* * *

 

As sudden as Keith had come into his life, as sudden had he left.

Lance spent the first two weeks rooted to his couch, a rom com playing on his laptop as he ate his way through another bucket of ice cream.

He wasn’t exactly sad or _heartbroken_ (God forbid), just so damn frustrated. He’d been so caught up in finding the perfect comeback for the moment Keith would barge in again that it wasn’t until later that it occurred to him that he probably wasn’t planning on stopping by anytime soon. If he meant to come back at all, that was.

 

* * *

 

“I can’t believe he’d just leave like that,” Lance was saying for the nth time, hands digging into his third chips bag with perhaps a bit too much force. He pitched his voice lower in a mock attempt to imitate him, “I’m Keith, I like screwing people’s lives over, but _don’t believe for a second that I owe you-_ ”

“ _Lance._ ” Pidge was pinching the bridge of their nose, their glasses lying in their lap, “Please.”

Hunk was more gentle, an arm wrapped around Lance’s shoulder in comfort.

“If you wanna talk about it-” he started to offer, but Lance was already shaking his head furiously before he had the chance to finish his sentence.

The silence was broken only from the crunching of his chips as he shoveled another handful into his mouth. His friends shared some strained glances Lance tried to ignore.

It wasn’t long before Hunk drew him closer with a sigh, his hand rubbing his shoulder in soothing circles.

“Take your time,” he opted to say instead, and Lance leaned into his touch gratefully, his anger momentarily forgotten.

 

Later that day, when Lance had found his way back home, he scrolled through his list of contacts, determined to delete Keith’s number. His hands hovered when he hit the bottom of the list, though, and only when he’d gone through it twice did he remember that he’d never actually asked for it.

It kind of made sense, really, since they never actually planned their encounters.

It was weird how dependent he’d been on someone he had absolutely no way to track down. Then again, it was also a relief not having to explain himself to the other.

It was easier not having to worry about Keith barging into his apartment whenever he pleased, not to have to plan his life around random visits. After all, he’d never asked for Keith to stop by in the first place.

_Keith_ was the one who had needed _him,_ not the other way around, so he sure as hell wasn’t going to start complaining now that Keith had stopped passing by.

In fact, the reason why Lance didn’t have Keith’s number was probably because he didn’t even _need_ it. Because, Lance resolved with himself, Keith simply hadn’t been worth it.

“Take that, Keith!” He called out to no one in particular. The words echoed dully through his apartment.

With a deeply felt sigh he turned his phone off, not having the energy to go through all of his messages. He threw it onto his bed before dramatically falling down on the bed himself, draping an arm over his eyes. He tried to fight against his urge to sniff his bedsheets in a vain attempt to find Keith’s smell.

_So what_ he didn’t show up anymore. Lance could do better anyway. In fact, he was going to do _exactly that,_ starting from _right then._

 

It wasn’t a quick-fix, but eventually he managed to go back to his everyday business.

He caught up with his readings, took extra shifts at work to his boss’s delight and binge watched his favorite series whenever he got too bored.

He started hanging out with Pidge and Hunk more often, showing up at their places or going out for a cup of coffee. Eventually they stopped bringing Keith up, and eventually Lance could pretend that he didn’t care.

He’d moved on, after all.

To top it all off, he even went as far as contacting one of his older acquaintances for some good “quality time”. Joke was on him, though, when he found out that she’d copied half of his assignment, earning him a failed grade and a warning from his professor.

 

* * *

 

Lance had spent what some might consider an unhealthy amount of time picturing scenario after scenario in which he stumbled upon Keith again. Each one of them had him in a favorable light above Keith, who in most cases were begging on his knees for Lance to forgive him (whether he actually forgave him or not in these scenarios depended on his mood).

Peculiarly, though, none of these fantasies included him stumbling upon Keith at work, wearing what must’ve been the most unflattering uniform on earth. But with his luck, that was exactly how things turned out. Cause the world liked to play him like that.

 

“Excuse me, do you have soy milk stored somewhere…?” Lance stopped stacking groceries onto the shelves when an oddly familiar voice startled him out of his thoughts. Still carrying the box he was currently unloading groceries from, he put on his customer service face, smile set in place as he turned around to face the approaching customer-

Lance held his composure for all of two seconds before his former smile was replaced by a dumbfounded look.

“Keith?”

His gaze was met with an equally startled look.

“Lance.” Keith not as much said as stated it, his gaze tracking his figure before settling on his uniform. “Wow, uhm. Hey.”

For all the speeches and scenarios Lance had practiced, his mind was suddenly coming up suspiciously blank. He coughed self consciously into the crook of his elbow, his mind screaming _why,_ of _all_ the places they could have run into each other, did it have to be _here?!_

He readjusted his grip on the box he was caring, trying to quench his nerves as the silence stretched between them. ”I, uh… Fancy seeing you here?”

…

Nice job. Not awkward at all.

Yup.

“Yeah, I’m…” Keith blinked, visibly trying to gather himself. “Uh, shopping. Looking for soy milk.”

“Soy milk?” Lance raised his eyebrows at Keith questioningly, for a second completely forgetting he was supposed to be professional. He was at work, after all. “Didn’t take you for a health junkie.”

The look Keith sent him in return was unimpressed, as if the notion was something he’d been subjected to more times than he could count.

“I’m lactose intolerant.”

“Oh,” Lance said, “Right.”

He pulled himself together then, trying to regain his customer service stance.

He ignored the obvious tension that was brewing between the two of them as he bent down to place the box beside the shelf. Pretended he couldn’t feel the stare following his every movement with an intensity that had heat crawl up his neck. _Act cool, don’t be awkward…_ “I think there’s some stored in the back. Want me to get it for you?”

Keith’s gaze was averted to the floor once he turned around again, one of his arms coming up consciously to rub at his elbow.

“Yeah.” Then, as an afterthought, Keith looked up at him as he added, “Thanks.”

“Don’t mention it.” Lance dusted fake dust off his pants as he said it, trying to dry his sweaty palms off his uniform before he finally set into gear.

 

A mantra of _fuck_ repeated in his head as he walked down the aisles, trying to comprehend what the fuck just happened.

Keith. _Here._ In the store. After a month of absence, _this_ was how they met.

(Being over Keith was easier when he could pretend he didn’t exist. In person, though, it was a completely different matter).

It was a relief to let himself out in the storage room and away from prying eyes, a moment of silence where he could assess the situation on his own. His steps echoed soundly in the dimly lit hall as the door behind him closed on its own.

Keith was here, alright. Considering how badly their last encounter in his apartment had ended, it was probably better for the both of them to have the time and space to readjust to seeing each other again. Not that Lance was hoping or expecting them to see each other again after today (at least not like this).

He walked along the rows of boxes filled to the brim with stock, eyeing each label he passed as he hummed along to a tune that’d practically been stuck on his head for the last couple of weeks. Took his sweet time focusing on the task at hand rather than facing Keith.

Now, where did they keep the-

“Aha!” He exclaimed, immediately stopping in his tracks as he spotted the soy milk to his right.

What he didn’t expect to happen was the surprised yelp coming from behind him right as someone collided with his back, bringing him out of balance.

“Woah, woah there!” Lance squawked, catching onto the figure behind him to regain his balance.

For a moment he had to squint his eyes to actually see whoever it was he’d latched onto, the long shadows from the poorly lit room obscuring most of his features. Then, a second too late, he realized.

“Keith?” Lance breathed, trying to connect the dots in his frenzied state (had he been following him this whole time?). Keith’s eyes were widened in surprise, his lips parted in a silent gasp.

For a second all Lance could do was stare as he fought to find his voice. “What are you doing out here? What…”

His mouth ran dry once his mind caught up, suddenly becoming very aware of how close they were standing. Becoming aware of how Keith’s breath fanned over his face as they continued to regard one another, heart racing one hundred miles a minute. How, first in his fervor in not to fall flat on his ass, Keith had gripped securely onto his waist, just to let his hand linger even afterwards as they both regained their balance.

He immediately loosened his own death grip on Keith’s shoulders, but instead of letting go right away he found himself clutching his jacket, almost as if scared that the world was gonna tilt a second time if he let go.

His gaze flickered towards Keith’s lips, catching on to the movement when he wetted them and... _wooo,_ did someone just turn up the heat?

Unbidden, his mind so kindly supplied him with the knowledge that he barely had to lean his head in if he wanted to kiss…

… if he wanted to…

Ah.

He shouldn’t. And yet…

When he looked up, he found Keith’s eyes on him, determination plain on his face like it always was right before he did something impulsive.

And Lance…

He clenched his eyes shut as he met him halfway, instincts not as much as habits taking over. Hands sneaked their way up his back until they gently tugged at his hair, and Lance let Keith guide him down until their faces were leveled.

He was persistent as always, opening Lance’s mouth with the push of a tongue against his lower lip. Lance sighed soundly into the kiss, drawing Keith in until he had him right where he wanted, sagged up against him, melting into the kiss. Only now realizing how long he’d wanted this. Missed it.

Heads were angled, hands were reaching, roaming, and lips were moving on their own, finding comfort in something familiar. _This,_ Lance knew what to do with.

This was good. This was nice. This was…

In a storage room.

At his workplace.

In the middle of his shift.

… Not really a good time or place to make out, really (or to sport half a boner, which… Lance definitely wasn’t. Shut up).

Keith made a dissatisfied noise in the back of his throat once Lance broke the kiss, for a second trying to chase after him as he was held at shoulder’s length.

“This is really nice,” Lance rushed, his voice broken in so many ways that he at any other time would’ve been mortified, “But you’re actually not allowed to be in here. At all. Like, my boss will rip me another one if she finds us.”

That seemingly had Keith wake up from his daze. He blinked slowly before shaking his head.

“Oh. Uh,” He cleared his throat, reluctantly letting go of Lance’s neck as he stepped out of his hold with an uncertainty that had Lance’s stomach churn. “I should probably go, then.”

And, despite everything, Lance couldn’t bring himself to leave things like that. Not after this.

Keith barely had a chance to turn around before he caught his wrist, abruptly stopping him from leaving.

“ _Wait._ Fuck,” Lance huffed before letting go, briskly walking towards the reason they’d ended up in the storage room to begin with. Grabbing the nearest soy milk, he practically thrusted it into Keith’s unsuspecting hands once he made his way back to him.

“I get off at five,” he said short of breath, trying hard to not act as flustered as he felt. Then, just because Keith looked too bewildered to actually know what he was insinuating, he leaned in to plant one last kiss at the crook of his mouth before pushing him in the opposite direction, muttering, “Now off you go.”

Keith stumbled the first few steps. Looked behind him in puzzlement before, finally, he seemed register his words.

A shy smile reached his lips that had Lance’s heart flip into several directions at once, and he nodded stupidly before going on his way, leaving Lance a flustered, hot mess.

Well, shit.

Fighting hard against the grin creeping up his face, he fished his phone out of his pocket to text Pidge and Hunk. He should probably tell them he’d be late for their weekly movie night. You know. Just in case.

 

Bodies were pressed flush against each other the moment they’d made it inside his apartment, feet stumbling over threshold and shoes on their way.

He let himself be pushed by Keith through the kitchen into the hallway, and it wasn’t long before he heard the familiar sound of his bed creaking underneath him as his back hit the mattress. Keith followed soon after, crawling on top of him as he immediately started tugging at his uniform until he got the meaning of it. His shirt was tossed to the other side of the room. Then Keith was on him.

His pulse was beating rapidly as Keith lowered himself down, kissing him feverously as if everything was on the loose. He was sure Keith must have felt it from the way his hands lingered at his chest, but since they were both breathing heavily Lance guessed he wasn’t faring any better.

He wound his arms around Keith’s waist and grabbed the hem of his shirt, deliberately tugging it up over his shoulder blades until he had to disentangle himself from Lance to get rid of it himself. Lance had meant to laugh at the dismayed look Keith sent his way, but it was breathy, almost inaudible if not for the rattling in his chest.

“What?” he said defensively, and Lance just shook his head at him, his laugh replaced with a lazy smile.

“Nothing… just c’mere.” Keith followed him immediately when he started pulling him down, and his lips were back on his in a heartbeat.

There was no hesitancy between the two of them as they got rid of their remaining clothes, rather an urgency as they latched onto each other, kissing each other more heatedly, more fervently. They worked each other up like there was no tomorrow, each moan only encouraging the other to go faster. A sigh escaped Keith’s mouth as Lance grazed his teeth against his bottom lip, and he pulled at it teasingly before he went back for the mouth, his kisses openmouthed.

Both of them were panting by the time Keith broke the kiss, eyes glazed as they met Lance’s gaze. He hoisted himself up slowly before stretching his body over the edge of the bed, reaching for Lance’s nightstand. His eyes followed the movement as Keith dug his hand into one of the drawers, searching for a moment before he retreated lube and condoms with a satisfied hum.

“Do you want me to…” Lance started, but his words faltered at Keith’s simple shake to his head.

“Nah, it’s fine. I’ve got it.”

Lance leaned back onto his elbows and watched as Keith pushed himself off his lap, coating his fingers with lube before he reached behind himself.

He bit his lip to keep himself from groaning as he slipped one of his fingers in and _heck,_ if that wasn’t hot, Lance didn’t know what was. He even had to restrain _himself_ from not whimpering right then just from the sight, and the twitch he felt from his dick was definitely of interest.

Unable to keep his hand away, Lance started stroking himself. Then he used his other hand for balance as he leaned up to place kisses along Keith’s jawline.

He shuddered from his kisses, and his breath came out ragged as he tilted his head back, leaving more space for Lance to explore.

Lance felt a hand reach up into the back of his hair as he chased the taste of Keith’s cologne to the crook of his neck, pinching his skin between his lips. Keith moaned, and the sound reverberated against Lance’s lips, leaving them tingling and wanting.

Keith’s muscles were slowly loosening up as Lance placed openmouthed kisses right under his ear, his breathing slowing down to a steady, yet heated pace. Growing slightly impatient Lance nibbled on his Adam’s apple until he felt it bob between his lips as Keith swallowed thickly.

Keith’s thighs were trembling by the time he was done, already looking utterly wrecked. His hands fumbled slightly when he reached for the condom, and it wasn’t long before his hands were on Lance. His exhale came out shakily as Keith rolled the condom on him.

“Ready?” he asked, and Lance nodded firmly.

He shifted forward as Lance lay down once again, angling himself just right before he lowered himself on top of him.

A tight heat engulfed him as Keith took him slowly all the way down his length.

“Ah, _fuck…_ ” Keith gasped, pupils dilated as he clenched down on Lance, still getting used to the feeling of him.

Lance’s hands automatically went to his waist, squeezing his sides as he adjusted his position. The two of them were both panting as they made eye contact.

Lance watched as sweat trickled down the side of Keith’s neck, his hair curling at the edges from the dampness. He resisted the urge to reach a hand up to follow the trail and instead opted to draw reassuring patterns on his hipbones, patiently waiting for him to loosen up.

Keith was the first to move, the roll of his hips tentative as he tested his limits.

A groan was drawn out of Lance, and his hips automatically followed the movement, trying to chase the sensation. Keith smirked, repeating the gesture somewhat more confidently, probably taking pleasure in Lance’s eagerness.

“Easy.” His voice was raspy and slightly out of breath as he looked down on Lance, his grin smug, “We’re just getting started.”

As if to punctuate his words, Keith eased himself up before quickly slamming back down on Lance, the impact making him gasp out loud. Lance’s grip on him tightened, and he had to dig his heels into the mattress to keep himself from jerking right back up into Keith, trying to keep his composure.

As if those were all the signals he needed, Keith started quickening the pace afterwards, hands resting on Lance’s chest as he ground his hips down on him.

Once Lance had gotten over Keith’s cockiness he joined in, thrusting his hips up in tact to Keith’s rolls of his hips. He let his hands travel up over Keith’s spine as he thrust his hips up, taking in the flustered state the latter was in.

Bending down, Keith leaned in to kiss Lance, his bangs tingling his face for a second before he clamped his mouth shut.

His kisses were messy, always misplaced or interrupted by a moan from one of them as they hit a sweet spot. In the end he just settled for leaning his forehead against Keith’s, their lips grazing each other now and then as they breathed in the same air in big heaves.

Keith grappled onto him as they settled on a steady rhythm, hips bucking into each other as their breaths became ragged, each of them unraveling from each other’s thrusts.

It wasn’t long before Lance felt a significant heat build up from his insides, and he purposefully wrapped a hand around Keith, stroking him in sync to his thrusts.

“ _Keith,_ ” he managed to grit out in warning, and the latter moaned, throwing his head back as his back arched, composure crumbling from each stroke, each thrust-

Keith cried out as he sent him off the edge, clenching down on Lance until his mind went blissfully blank.

 

A sound weight was pressed against him as Keith sagged forward, pulse still drumming so fast Lance could feel it against his chest. He instinctively brought a hand up into his hair, playing absentmindedly with the damp strands as the two of them slowly recovered from their high.

And then, as he came back from his high, realization finally seemed to sink in.

Shit.

That just... happened.

Once their breaths had evened out Keith eased himself off of Lance, wincing slightly in dismay from the ache.

“You good?” he asked, the tiniest bit of concern present in his voice.

He watched Keith as he arched his back, popping a few joints while rolling his shoulderblades.

“Mmm,” he all but purred before sending a lazy smile in Lance’s direction.

Once he was assured by Keith’s response, he got rid of the condom before grabbing some tissues from his drawer. Keith accepted them gratefully, and the two of them cleansed themselves before throwing them out.

Lance let himself fall back down onto the bed, tiredness seeping into his bones. But then, watching Keith sitting at the end of his bed, it occurred to him that he was probably soon on his way. That if he didn’t do something right now, this might not change anything.

Where he once felt contentment, he was suddenly filled with dread. Filled with an urge to do anything to make Keith stay.

Lance cleared his throat, catching Keith’s attention. And then he did what he did best when he was nervous- he started talking.

He started talking about Cuba, his family and what it was like growing up with five siblings. He talked about stargazing on his family’s front porch, long summers spent on Varadero beach and melted icecreams bought from cheap fastfood stands.

He talked about moving to America, his excitement and his insecurities of not blending in. He spoke of his best friend Hunk with fondness, a kindhearted soul he’d met in kindergarten and had clicked with immediately. He mentioned Pidge, a snarky child prodigy, who’d joined them in middle school and whom Lance had grown to love as if they were one of his younger siblings (and, more reluctantly, he added how he’d almost failed math if not for the two of them).

He talked about the smaller things, the bigger things. He talked about pretty girls that had broken his heart and handsome guys out of his league. He talked about university and how he still hadn’t chosen his major yet. How his friends already seemed to have their entire lives planned out while he didn’t even know what to cook for dinner.

He spilled his life out like he was talking about the weather, and Keith watched him the whole time in silence as if breaking their eye contact or intervening would break the spell. Then, as Lance went on, he slowly eased himself back onto the mattress, getting comfortable on his side as he met Lance’s gaze almost shyly, eyes half lidded.

At some point he ran out of words, his voice slowly ebbing into silence as they continued to regard one another.

For a second Lance didn’t dare move let alone breathe, afraid that he’d break the spell that had Keith lie down beside him rather than leaving. Instead he watched him cautiously, meeting his gaze as Keith tentatively brushed his feet against his leg. As the seconds passed by and Keith stayed, eyes locked with his, he finally let go of the breath he’d been holding in before moving closer, intertwining their legs.

Keith leaned over the bed, one hand resting on the mattress while the other grabbed the back of Lance’s neck. He was brought closer until Keith’s bangs were tingling the side of Lance’s face, his mouth almost brushing his ear.

“Thank you.”

The words were so soft Lance almost didn’t hear them weren’t it for the fact that his face was pressed against the crook of his neck. Lance felt goosebumps rise on his skin, and he instinctively ran his hands up Keith’s arms until they rested on his shoulders. Keith leaned slightly away until they were facing each other, indigo eyes meeting blue.

He didn’t know how long they stayed like that, limbs entangled and indistinguishable from one another. It could have been minutes, could have been hours as Lance drew lazy patterns on Keith’s left side in a comfortable silence.

Lance didn’t know what goaded him; whether it was the close proximity between the two of them or if it was the way he looked in his bed, hair disheveled and the last afternoon light spilling in from the windows, illuminating his skin in golden colors. Whatever it was, it had Lance fill with a sudden determination, and he found himself breaking the silence.

“Can I...” He watched the way his voice made Keith shift in bed, and for a second he contemplated if breaking the silence had been the wrong move. Before he could start regretting his actions, though, he pressed on, “Can I ask you a question?”

Keith was still for a moment, eyes locked on something above Lance’s head. Then, finally, he nodded hesitantly, and that was the sign Lance had been waiting for.

He took a deep breath, steadying himself. Keith furrowed his brows, but otherwise stayed where he was.

Lance was silent for a long time, mind coming up with several questions before he finally settled on one, aiming for a rather harmless question instead of one of the loaded ones.

“What’re you studying?”

Keith visibly relaxed the moment the question was out of Lance’s mouth, his frown smoothening out into a curious gaze that met his questioningly. For a moment none of them dared break the silence. Then,

“Astrophysics.” Lance nodded, taking in this new piece of information.

“Cool.”

And it was cool. It was a start, a promise of more answers to come.

 

* * *

 

“He’s studying astrology!” Pidge looked up from their console in confusion as Lance dropped in beside them, a confident smile fixed on his face.

“Astrology?” they drawled, following his movements with their eyes, eyebrows perched upwards. “You sure you don’t mean astronomy or astrophysics? Also, who are we even talking about?”

“Keith!” Lance paused, confusion tainting his former cockiness. “Wait, what did you say?”

Pidge sighed.

“Nevermind.”

“Oh no wait, I got it,” Lance quickly interjected, belatedly registering Pidge’s words. “Astronomy. Right. Something like that.” Lance peeked over their shoulders, thoughts already somewhere else. “What’re you playing?”

“Animal crossing.” Then, expression thoughtful, “I thought you were, and I quote ‘totally done and over Keith’?”

Apparently they didn’t let him slip that easily.

“Yeah… about that,” Lance said, scratching his neck sheepishly, “Guess I’m not?”

A second of silence followed before Pidge paused their game, giving Lance their full attention.

“Lance,” they said, “What the fuck?”

Hunk decided to return from the kitchen right at that moment, snacks in hand. His smile was quickly replaced with a wary expression as he inspected the scene in front of him.

“Guys?”

Lance was ready to use Hunk as an excuse to change subject, but unfortunately Pidge was quicker, their attention already on their approaching friend.

“Lance is seeing Keith again.”

“For real?”

“I can’t believe you guys!” Lance whined, sinking lower into the couch as he threw his head backwards onto the backrest dramatically, “I can’t see what the problem is. I’m screwing Keith again - so what!”

“Screwing? You’re still not dating?”

“I-” Lance wrinkled his nose as he sat up, eyeing Hunk place the snacks onto the table before dropping into the beanbag chair beside him, “Dating?”

“You see, it’s this concept-”

“Oh my _God_ , Pidge, I know what dating is!” Lance covered his face with his hands, a frustrating noise escaping his throat, “And we’re not dating, Hunk!”

“You mean, you don’t want to?”

Hunk was facing him, his head cocked to the side. Lance was at a loss for words, clearly not expecting his question. Caught off guard, he found himself answering before he’d even processed the question entirely.

“What? No. Yes. Maybe? I don’t _know,_ ” giving up on the subject, he ran a hand through his hair in exasperation. “Does it even matter?”

Hunk answered, “Yes” at the same time as Pidge said, “No”. Lance sighed in defeat before draping himself dramatically over Pidge, clearly done with the conversation.

“Whatever,” he said, reaching out in vain towards the snack bowl just out of reach. Pidge tried pushing him away to no avail, and with a sigh they accepted their faith as Lance’s headrest as he got comfortable on their lap. “It’s not like he’s my type anyway.”

Their reactions were instantaneous. Pidge groaned in exasperation while Hunk gasped in surprise, not quite comprehending what he just heard.

“Lance… dude, he’s _exactly_ your type.”

He started, head immediately whipping in Hunk’s direction.

“Is not!”

“Is too!” Pidge added in, and Lance pinched their thigh in response until they were swatting at his head. He almost fell out of the couch trying to get away from them.

“Explain!”

“Well,” Pidge started, straightening their posture as if getting ready for a lecture, “If you insist.”

They cleared their throat before continuing.

“First off, his looks.” When Lance didn’t do anything to interject, they continued, “You’re digging the whole ‘bad boy’ thing he has going on and you can’t convince me otherwise.”

“He’s got a mullet,” Lance stated, eyebrows rising as he met Pidge’s gaze.

The look they sent him in return was unimpressed. He got the distinct feeling that his statement neither confirmed nor denied whatever they were trying to say.

“Second,” they continued, unfazed by the surprised outburst Lance came with, “In lieu of his looks, there’s his attitude.”

“I don’t dig his attitude!” Lance interrupted, but as Pidge waited for him to elaborate he couldn’t help but suddenly falter. “I mean… I guess he’s okay _sometimes,_ but mostly he’s just sarcastic or rude-”

“Please.” Pidge raised their hand on reflex, warding him off. “You love the fight. It’s boring otherwise.”

“I don’t...” he started, but even he could hear how unconvinced he sounded. Instead of letting his friend get the better of him, though, he clamped his mouth shut, slouching his shoulders as he grumbled, “Whatever.”

“Third,” Pidge started, but by then Lance had become fed up with their listings.

“Okay, fine!” Lance interrupted once again, exasperation plain in his posture as he threw his hands to his sides, “Maybe he is my kind of type. Now can we please just find a movie to watch?”

Though Hunk seemed reluctant to leave the conversation at such a tone, he didn’t need much persuasion. In the end they agreed on _Guardians of the Galaxy._

Lance settled back onto Pidge’s lap, nestling into the couch as Hunk fiddled with the remote. Soon the movie started up, and the previous tension was immediately wearing off.

He was so comfortable that he almost fell asleep before they’d even made it halfway through the movie. Fortunately for him, Pidge (helpful as always) was ready to slap his face awake whenever his eyes drifted close.

Lance thought he might have heard Hunk mutter something along the lines of “let him sleep, Pidge,” but by then his eyes were already shut. Above him Pidge scoffed, but to Lance’s delight there was no hand jostling him awake this time.

 

Lying on Hunk’s couch, he fell asleep to the sound of his friends’ quiet chatter, dreaming of soft kisses and indigo eyes.

 

* * *

 

Lance didn’t know what to make of the fact that Keith had become a part of his life again, nor did he know what it meant for the two of them. It wasn’t like they’d talked about what happened, instead opting to just say _fuck it_ and dive right back where they’d left off. Because - and maybe this was just Lance getting ahead of himself - he couldn’t help but feel that things had changed between the two of them.

It might look like the same on the surface, he _guessed,_ BUT! Keith was opening up to him. They were surmounting the problems they’d faced before. Keith had let him in. That must’ve meant something… right?

Lance liked to think that they’d at least become friends. The problem was, if Lance had to be completely honest with himself, he was too much of a coward to ask. Keith never brought it up, and Lance never gave him a reason to.

Eventually he just let it slide, deeming it safer to not question Keith’s behavior. If Keith noticed, he didn’t question it.

 

* * *

 

He started uncovering the small details.

Keith’s favorite colour was red. His zodiac sign was Scorpio (this was delivered with a snort). He was gay (upon questioning his sexuality, Lance replied, “oh, you know, just passing bi.” Keith, unimpressed by Lance’s pun, almost left on the spot). He took his coffee without milk. He had a motorbike ( _of course_ he had a motorbike).

They traded truths for truths. While regaining their breaths, Lance would ask a question and would, upon receiving an answer, return the favor.

Lance might have been milestones away from the answers he sought, but a snail’s pace was better than no pace.

 

“What’s your favorite movie?” Lance was lying on his side, facing Keith. The latter was looking elsewhere, contemplating his answer. Then, as if he had made up his mind, he met his gaze.

“The Shining.”

“Yeah?” Lance felt the corner of his lips tilt upward, and upon seeing it, Keith returned his smile almost shyly.

“Yeah.”

“Cool. Mine’s Predator.”

Keith chuckled.

“Figures.”

“Hey!” Despite his pout, Lance couldn’t hide his amusement as he swatted at Keith. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Nothing.” Keith’s grin gave him away, though, and Lance sighed dramatically, his hands clutching his chest in mock offense.

“Well excuse _you,_ ” Lance said, face angled towards Keith as he turned onto his back, “I’ll let you know that Predator is _amazing_! Besides, weren’t you supposed to be the one obsessing over aliens and stuff?”

“I never said I didn’t like it.”

Lance raised an eyebrow, his smile returning despite himself.

“Oh yeah?”

“Yeah.” Keith’s tentative smile looked so genuine that Lance had to restrain himself physically from leaning over right then, kissing the corners of it until he had it ingrained in his memory.

 

They went on like that, learning the most harmless things about each other to a point where Lance felt like he could write a novel about Keith’s habits and interests.

And then, once the whole ordeal had become habit between the two of them, Keith started joining in.

“Do you believe in Mothman?”

Lance was so taken aback by the question that for a second he didn’t believe he’d heard right. A startled laugh escaped his mouth.

“Do I believe in _what?_ ” Lance pushed himself up to a sitting position so he could get a good view of him, lips curling.

Keith looked genuinely embarrassed, head turned away. “Nevermind.”

“Nononono- okay give me a minute. Mothman? Are you serious?” Lance couldn’t help himself from laughing once again, and Keith turned an even deeper shade of red from embarrassment or anger (or perhaps both). “Is this, like, another one of your cryptids?”

It was as if Lance’d turned on a faucet. Keith immediately whipped his face in his direction, apparently ready to defend mothman for his life.

Lance was stunned into silence as Keith ( _Keith,_ of all people!) started listing off evidence of several conspiracy theories, a passionate fire burning behind his eyes. Never once did Keith falter, and whenever Lance made a snide remark or an honest (albeit skeptical) question, he was back at ranting, almost going on for an hour.

It was enchanting to watch, and while Lance’s disbelief was grating on Keith’s nerves, Lance himself was starting to feel the corners of his lips lift until it started hurting.

“What?” Keith snapped once he was done with Lance’s snickering, raking a hand through his hair in frustration.

“Nothing,” Lance laughed, shaking his head incredulously at Keith all the while, “It’s just… are you for real?”

Keith opened his mouth to object, but Lance was quicker than him.

“I mean, I’m kinda starting to believe that you’re a side character from _Stranger Things_ or something.”

“I’m _what?_ ” It was as if Keith grew even more agitated by that, and with a huff he tried to scramble off the bed. Emphasis on _tried_ \- Lance immediately grabbed hold of him and clung to him for dear life.

“ _Let go of me!_ ” Keith was howling all the while Lance was laughing, now and then managing to wheeze out, “I’m joking Keith, _geez-_ ”

In the end Keith gave up, and with a groan he dumped himself back into bed, although he managed to push all of the breath out of Lance in the process. Guess he was as petty as Lance.

“You’re such a cliché.”

“Shut up,” he answered, though there was less bite to it this time as Lance nuzzled into his side.

 

If Keith didn’t feel like talking one night, _well_ , that was fine. Lance could easily do the talking for the both of them, launching into stories about his day or his friends. It was an accomplishment in itself that Keith stayed, listening to Lance with half lidded eyes as he went on, talking about everything and nothing.

Keith didn’t like to talk about his personal life though. He would rather not talk about his friends, his family or where he’d grown up (he wouldn’t tell him why he didn’t want to talk about it either).

Lance simply had to accept that most background information was off-limits.

 

That didn’t stop him from learning other things about Keith on his own.

Keith was a heathen when it came to technology (“You have a _flip phone?!_ ” Lance had exclaimed once he’d actually had the guts to ask for his number, “Jesus Christ, Keith! You gotta be kidding me!”).

His phone was almost always out of battery, and Lance had - no kidding - found an actual MP3 in his pockets in search for condoms (“What? They’re handy!” Keith had grumbled, his arms crossed defensively. Lance shook his head incredulously, not even bothering to join in on the fight).

His music taste belonged to the same decade as his haircut. Shuffling through Keith’s songs on his MP3, Lance found nothing but classics, everything from _the Smiths, Toto,_ and _David Bowie_ to _Alice Cooper._ Whenever Lance tried to introduce him to anything remotely new, Keith would wrinkle his nose in distaste (“What’s that?” he’d asked, at which Lance, genuinely offended, responded, “It’s Britney, _bitch_ ”).

Despite his outdated taste in music, he’d flung a pillow into Lance’s face the moment he played _Careless Whisper_ on his speakers (he’d laughed, though, so it was totally worth it).

Keith was ticklish on his sides (a kick and a bloody nose later, Lance was sure never to try it out again) (how could he even _aim_ that high? Lance was terrified and mildly impressed. Perhaps even slightly turned on, what the _fuck_ ).

He never initiated affectionate gestures, but he wasn’t exactly against them either. He wasn’t much for sweet-talking, though (pet names were off-limits), but dirty words got him in the mood in no time.

He liked being in control as much as being challenged (not that Keith would admit _that_ if confronted). Lance made a show out of slowing down whenever he had the chance during sex, dragging it out just because he knew how much it drove Keith insane.

He liked it when Lance tugged at his hair (he could tell by the way Keith’s back arched from the touch, his breath uneven). He liked Lance’s neck - at least it was one of his favorite targets. He knew Keith’s breath would catch in his throat whenever he trailed kisses down his hip bone, biting down on sensitive flesh right before he-

_Well._ Lance had Keith covered when it came to his turn-ons. It was better to just leave it at that.

 

* * *

 

Months passed by, and before Lance knew it, he was busy with this semester’s upcoming exams. That, and he was still as undeclared as he’d been at the beginning of the semester.

 

“What about this one?”

Hunk pushed his brochure face up towards Lance, his finger pressing eagerly on one subject called _dramaturgy_.

“I don’t know...” he pursed his lips as he skimmed over the details before looking up at Hunk again.

Among them books were scattered in enormous heaps, a not-so gentle reminder that they had other matters at hand waiting for them. The two of them were busy checking out the brochure for the university’s major programs, sometimes pointing out one or two of them before ditching them again.

“What about this one then?”

New page. Lance glanced at it for a second before shaking his head once again. His friend sighed soundly before retrieving the brochure, already skimming the list over again.

“You could always do astrophysics… you know, like _Keith._ ” Pidge added in, not even bothering to sound nonchalant as they directed a sly smile at him from across the table. They had their legs propped up on another chair, their laptop perching on their legs as they typed away at it, only glancing at it now and then.

Lance grimaced. “Yeah, no. Not gonna happen.”

“Why not?”

Lance huffed, “You know why.”

When he was met by silence, he shrugged sheepishly, feigning indifference.

“It’d be… I don’t know, weird? Besides, me and math are like-” at a loss for a word, he started imitating the sound of a plane crash, his hand following a downward curve before hitting the palm of his other hand with added explosive sound effects.

“Never stopped you before,” Pidge muttered under their breath, their attention once again returning to their computer. Lance didn’t bother rising to their bait, instead opting to just leave it at that.

Hunk sent him a tired smile as he started packing the brochure away, finally giving up on their search.

“Maybe you should sleep on it. Try to do some more research tomorrow, yeah?”

“Alright,” he answered, sighing defeatedly as Hunk grabbed one of his books. He glanced up at him briefly and offered a friendly smile before he went back to his studies, humming softly as he found the right page.

 

As his friends were well into their studying, busy with taking notes, Lance was still stuck on his choices, though, skimming the list over and over yet not coming up with anything remotely eye-catching.

The nagging thoughts occupied his mind for the rest of the day, Lance weighing each of the subjects in his head again and again yet coming up with nothing new. He was so caught up in his indecision that even when Keith’d showed up, he was still debating it over in his head.

Preoccupied, he’d ended up sitting with his legs propped up against the back of the couch (he was wearing his boxers, thank you for asking), head tilted just over the edge of the sofa as he regarded him with a thoughtful expression.

“Why did you choose astrophysics?”

“Huh?” Keith had been zoning out, gaze lingering on the photos plastered all over the side of his fridge before he registered Lance’s words. He turned towards him questioningly, blocking him from the otherwise nice view of his backside (Lance was only mildly disappointed, as he had gotten Keith’s attention after all).

“Like… What made you choose your major?”

Owlish eyes blinked at him in silence.

“I…” His voice ebbed out as he faced the wall, his eyebrows furrowed in contemplation. Even facing away, Lance could sense the numerous emotions that crossed Keith’s face, yet he lost track of all of them, trying and failing to read his response.

Then he ran his fingers through his hair, and for a moment Lance was distracted by the sight, his gaze lingering on his hands before refocusing.

As if remembering that he had to come up with an answer, Keith cleared his throat, sheepishly scratching his neck as he started over. "I don’t know.”

Lance’s eyebrows quirked at that, and slowly he eased his legs off the back of the sofa until he was lying on his side, fully facing Keith.

He watched him fidget with his hands in silence, shifting his weight from one foot to the other.

“You _don’t know?_ ” He echoed, his voice cracking slightly in disbelief. Keith, enigma space nerd, didn’t know why he chose _astrophysics?_

“It’s just-” Keith backtracked, silent for a second before he met Lance’s gaze with narrowed eyes, “Why are you even asking?”

And _hold up._ Where did this attitude come from? For a second Lance was dumbfounded, wondering why Keith had the sudden urge to be so defensive.

“Why shouldn’t I?” He fired back, mimicking Keith’s gaze as he crossed his arms childishly.

He knew it wasn’t the answer Keith wanted. Quite frankly, it was probably the opposite. It didn’t stop Lance though, and he stubbornly jutted his chin out when Keith refused to rise to his bait.

They held gazes for a whole minute, the silence deafening to Lance’s ears. Keith’s gaze was passive yet just as stubborn as Lance’s, almost as if he was daring him to question him.

In the end Lance gave in, sighing defeatedly as he uncrossed his arms, rolling onto his back.

“I don’t know what major I should apply for…”

At first there was no response. Then, hesitantly, he scooted over on the couch as Keith walked towards him.

The couch dipped underneath Keith’s weight as he sat on the edge of it, eyes closed off as he looked at nothing in particular.

“Uh… I don’t know, is there anything you’re good at?”

Lance shrugged noncommittally, not bothering to come up with an answer. Keith pursed his lips, his eyebrows creasing in a frown.

When the silence stretched on, he suddenly found himself reaching his hand towards the other on pure instinct, but stopped himself mid-way, suddenly hesitating.

Something about Keith’s tense shoulders gave off the feeling that the gesture would have him lash out- a feeling that didn’t sit well with Lance. This was a side of Keith that Lance hadn’t seen in a long time, a side he’d thought they’d moved past-

It dawned on him that through his indecision, his hand had hovered awkwardly in the space between the two of them. He opted to let it go then, his hand dropping soundly onto the sofa. The gesture wasn’t quite subtle enough to go over Keith’s head.

Trying to redirect Keith’s attention from his hand, he decided to speak up.

“I mean… I guess there’s something?” When Keith just looked at him questioningly, he elaborated. “That I’m good at, I mean. But it’s not defining in any kind of way.”

Keith hummed in acknowledgement, once again succumbing to silence. It was another minute before he came with an answer, eyes averting Lance’s.

“I guess you’re pretty good with people? You could go with psychology or… I don’t know, sociology?” His hands were playing with the strands of his hair, his bangs covering most of Lance’s view of his profile. “Maybe even linguistics, if you’re interested in languages.”

“That’s…” Lance started, then backtracked as he started considering Keith’s words, “Actually not a bad idea. Huh.”

Keith, nonchalant as ever, just shrugged before repositioning himself on the sofa, his arms resting on his knees. As if he hadn’t just come up with the solution Lance had been searching for the whole day.

“You’re amazing,” Lance found himself saying, startling himself as much as Keith. The following silence as well as the incredulous look Keith sent his way was enough to make him press on, determined to make Keith understand. “You know that, right?”

“It’s not that much of a deal… Anyone could have helped you with that.” He hugged his knees self-consciously as he met Lance’s gaze, a crease forming on his forehead.

“Probably,” Lance agreed, a soft smile reaching his lips, “Yet here we are.”

Keith only grunted in response before turning his head away, and an eery silence stretched between the two of them.

Finally mustering the courage he’d lacked earlier, he scooted over until he was sitting right next to Keith, their sides pressed against each other. The only inclination Keith made to it was a silent huff, otherwise he stayed indifferent, gaze kept ahead of him.

When he wasn’t able to catch his attention, he directed his gaze towards the hand hovering on his knee. He absently ran his hand over Keith’s fingertips, noting how the roots and nails were bitten into small stumps.

He couldn’t help but wonder what was on Keith’s mind, what kind of stress might’ve been inflicted on him.

“Hey…” He said hesitantly, intertwining their fingers until Keith turned his gaze towards him, “You alright?”

Keith hummed in response but otherwise stayed as he was, curled in on himself and only meeting his gaze briefly.

He squeezed his hand assuredly, then leaned forward until he could see the outline of Keith’s face before he continued, trying once again to get his attention.

“You know you can tell me if anything’s wrong, right?”

No answer. Keith worried his lip, still refusing to meet Lance’s gaze. Then, suddenly, he moved.

“I should get going.” Keith’s voice cut into Lance’s thoughts abruptly, and where he once found a warm body pressed to his side was nothing but thin air, almost making him fall back onto his side.

“No, wait,” Lance interjected, but by then Keith was already busy buttoning his jeans, his shirt thrown haphazardly on in a frenzy.

He could do nothing but stare as Keith busied himself with his clothes, looking anywhere but at Lance. It was less than five minutes before he was already out of the door, no other words exchanged on his way.

_Huh._

Lance took his time processing what had just happened, a lingering feeling of hurt unfurling in the pit of his stomach.

What was Keith’s problem?

Lance had only tried to comfort him, and instead he’d completely disregarded him. After all the progress they’d had the past months, it felt like they’d hit a wall.

Had Keith been like this the whole day, or had he said something that triggered him? It wasn’t like he’d said anything out of the ordinary. Besides, he was allowed to comfort him… _Right?_

Right.

But what if Keith hadn’t been wrong to act the way he did? What if it was because Lance worried too much?

“Shit,” he found himself groaning, embarrassment flooding his senses. Then realization came to him as an afterthought. _Shit._

Was comforting Keith treading on unwelcome territory? Was he crossing a line between their usual screwing around and _something else?_

 

Even as Lance got ready for a shower he let his thoughts get the better of him, replaying their conversation over and over in his head as the cold water hit his face. Instead of calming him down, though, the cold seeped into him the same way as dread crept up on him.

What if he’d ruined everything? What if Lance’s concern had screwed up all the progress they’d made?

He let the water drum against his skull, desperately trying to drown his thoughts out.

Could it be that Keith was seeing someone else? Despite the fact that he doubted it (he was definitely overthinking it, right?), he couldn’t help but worry.

Because, quite frankly, Lance didn’t have a clue. For all he knew, Keith could’ve been in a healthy relationship with someone else and only used Lance as entertainment on the sideline. Geez, what if Keith was uncomfortable because he’d been trying to come up with a way to tell Lance off while he was basically confessing-

Confessing _what_ exactly? Lance felt like he was on the brink of discovering something really important, yet he couldn’t help but feel panic clutching at his heart as his breathing came out in short, labored breaths.

Why should it matter if Keith was seeing someone else? It wasn’t like they were dating or anything. Hell, Keith wasn’t the only one _Lance_ had been seeing the last few months (not exactly, so to speak).

So why was it his heart made an involuntary throb whenever he pictured Keith-

He couldn’t even think about it. Lance clenched his eyes shut, forcing the image out of his head as cold water cascaded down on him. Trying to remind himself that Keith wasn’t any different from the others (Lance wouldn’t allow him to be. _Couldn’t_ ).

 

* * *

 

(Except he was. Keith _was_ different, despite whatever Lance was trying to convince himself. And it was starting to dawn on him as well, whether he liked it or not.)

 

* * *

 

Lance would’ve let the whole incident pass if it wasn’t for the fact that it happened again later that week. There was just something… _off_ about him, something that was clearly bothering him or stressing him out, and Lance couldn’t help but wonder if Keith was keeping something from him.

So he tried for an open front, a gesture that said _‘you can tell me what’s bothering you, I won’t mind’_ without actually having him say the words out loud. Yet all he got in return was a shrug, some made-up excuse followed by Keith running off.

Stressing over exams topped with his feelings suddenly getting in the way was starting to take its toll on him, leaving him unintentionally vulnerable to Keith’s reserved front. But it couldn’t end like it did last time. Lance was sure that they’d moved on from their last fight, and he was more than ready to prove just that.

The only problem was he didn’t know what Keith wanted from him - couldn’t get himself to ask, instead losing his courage last minute and hence letting the moment pass.

It was as if the words would get stuck in his throat every time, right on the tip of his tongue yet unable to pass his lips (didn’t mean that the words didn’t haunt his mind, though. They definitely did. Always did, in fact).

_What are we?_ He’d question himself afterwards, gaze lingering on the body lying next to his, trying to find the answer in his posture. _What are you thinking?_ His questions were left unheard and unanswered.

 

* * *

 

Eventually he caved in. He’d spent too many sleepless nights worrying over something he couldn’t change unless he pulled his shit together. Besides, if he’d learned anything, it was that communication was the key. Keith undeniably had something weighing on his chest, Lance perhaps even more, and if none of them were going to address it, it might end badly.

It didn’t make it any easier, though.

With held breath, Lance opened his text messages with Keith. It was mostly devoid of any conversations, a few scattered (and mostly unanswered) _u comin?_ on Lance’s side that had him cringe visibly.

It took him another minute before he finally mustered the last resolve needed before he started typing.

hey, i was wondering-

(Delete. Start over)

hey, can we talk?

(Delete. Rephrase. Send)

**Keith**

**Text message**

**today** 08:53 PM

can we talk?

He’d barely pressed the send button before he threw his phone away, heart hammering in his throat.

Shit.

He just did that. He totally did.

And then there was nothing left for him to do but wait. For a reply. For a knock at his door. Something.

 

* * *

 

The first day passed.

Lance tried not to think too much of it - it wasn’t like he could just expect Keith to answer all of his texts immediately. It didn’t stop him from checking his phone every goddamn minute, though, and it certainly didn’t stop him from getting disappointed repeatedly when he’d see that there was no reply.

Being on edge while waiting for Keith to respond was exhausting, and at some point he had to physically restrain himself from checking his phone all the time. Because hey. Things had changed. Keith wouldn’t disappear on him like he’d done last time. Lance was sure of it.

When another day passed with no answer he had to find other ways to keep himself occupied. He busied himself with work and studying, with attending the last lectures of this semester, and making plans for the summer.

And- okay. Keith not answering his phone was nothing new. But Keith not showing up after five days was definitely worth noting.

 

A week passed. Still no sign of Keith.

“I don’t know what to do!” Lance finally caved in to his friends one evening, playstation console abandoned at his side as his hands grasped desperately at his hair. “I thought we’d moved beyond this, but it’s basically like we’re right back to where we started!”

Pidge groaned audibly before muttering “Trouble in paradise,” to no one in particular, their stance easily reading _here we fucking go again._

Hunk was taking it better, pausing the game as he worriedly faced Lance.

“What’s up?” He asked, leaving the question open for Lance to elaborate.

Lance loosened his grip on his hair, a sigh escaping his lips. He averted his gaze from Hunk as he fell into a contemplative silence, not ready to face his friend just yet.

It was another half a minute before he spoke up, voice suddenly gone tentative.

“It’s just… Keith, he…” Lance started, then faltered as he tried to come up with words. Shrugging noncommittally when nothing came.

“Did something happen?”

“He’s just… I think he’s avoiding me?” He looked up at Hunk then, almost as if expecting him to have the answer. Instead he was faced with an encouraging smile to go on.

He exhaled slowly before elaborating, “He’s obviously going through some stuff, but he doesn’t want my help. He’s constantly pushing me away for some reason.”

Hunk looked at him sympathetically, his brows pinched into a worried frown.

“You sure it’s not just you overanalyzing things?” he asked tentatively, “He’s not just stressing over school?”

“I mean, he’s not answering my messages, not stopping by and stuff like that. I dunno. It seems bigger than just that.” As the words left him, he could feel himself deflate, ending his sentence in a deep sigh.

Hunk was silent for a while as he continued to regard Lance. Then, slowly,

“You like him.”

Lance felt dread fill his gut the moment Hunk said it, but as soon as the words were out he knew they were true.

“I… yeah.” He rubbed at his arms self-consciously, not meeting Hunk’s softening gaze.

Lance could feel the couch shift as Hunk scooted closer, warm side pressing up against him.

“Hey. It’s okay, you know?”

Lance pouted before burrowing his nose in Hunk’s shoulder..

“No, it’s really not.”

Hunk didn’t give in, though. “Of course it is! And you know what? I’m sure he likes you, too.”

Lance hid his face further against his friend’s shoulder, groaning in embarrassment. “You’re just saying that to make me feel better.”

“Possibly,” Hunk agreed, patting Lance’s shoulder amiably. “Doesn’t mean it’s not true, though.”

“True or not, he’s still shutting me out,” Lance argued, hands coming up to fiddle with Hunk’s shirt. “It’s like- how do you help someone who doesn’t want to be helped?”

The latter didn’t seem to mind Lance tugging at his shirt, rather encouraged it as his own hands followed Lance’s motion. Once Lance let go of his shirt, he let his hand rest on top of his belly.

“Have you confessed to him yet?” he asked softly instead, leaning against Lance’s side with intention.

Lance squawked in reaction, moving away from Hunk. “Of course not!” Then, hesitantly, he added, “I mean, I was trying to, but then all this happened.”

A groan was audible from behind him.

“Oh my God, just contact him already!” Pidge interjected, finally joining in on the conversation.

“Yeah,” Hunk agreed, looking towards Pidge before addressing Lance again, “You need to tell him how you feel.”

Lance worried his lips in a nervous fit as he looked uncertainly between his friends. “I’m just going to freak him-”

“Confess.” Pidge interrupted, leaning on her elbows.

“Didn’t you hear me?” Lance groaned in exasperation, “I’m just-”

“Confess.”

“Pidge, he’s not even-”

“Con-”

“Pidge-”

“ _-fess!_ ”

Lance gritted his teeth in frustration, tugging at his hair once again before turning towards Hunk.

“Hunk, make them stop!” He cringed inwardly at the crack in his voice as he grabbed his shoulders in pure desperation.

Unfortunately for him, even he seemed to have taken Pidge’s side, shrugging his hands off apologetically.

“I’m sorry to say it, dude, but they’re right,” he said, patting Lance’s shoulder as the latter groaned in defeat. “Besides, you both deserve to know what’s going on, man.”

Pidge, obviously satisfied, leaned back in their chair, a smug smile tucking at the corner of their lips.

“Whatever,” Lance gave in, opting to sulk in his own corner of the couch instead. “It’s not like it’s going to make it any easier whether you agree or not. He’s still ignoring me.”

“Why can’t you just say it as it is?” Hunk leaned over once again, arm resting in-between the two of them hesitantly. “I thought you guys talked?”

Lance’s arms rested on top of his knees, head leaning against them as he shrugged once again, a sigh leaving his lips in the process.

“We _do_. It’s just… complicated now, I guess,” he added after a while, his words mumbled against the crook of his elbow.

“Do you ever just hang out, or is all just… y’know...” Too embarrassed to finish his sentence, Hunk just made a vague gesture with his hands.

“What Hunk’s trying to ask is if you do anything else besides fucking,” Pidge helpfully added, drawing a startled gasp out of Hunk.

“ _Pidge,_ ” he chastised, mortification plain on his face, “You can’t just say that!”

“What?” They retaliated, crossing their arms. “It’s not like you didn’t imply it yourself.”

“Guys,” Lance pleaded, not exactly ready to have this conversation with his friends once again, “Can we please _not_ talk about that?”

“So what you’re saying is-”

“No! I mean...” he cringed at the uncertainty in his voice, rubbing at his eyes. How was he going to convince his friends when he couldn’t even convince himself? “Look, I don’t _know,_ okay?”

Pidge scrunched their nose in a grimace, processing his words. “Huh.”

“Yeah. Don’t sweat it.”

Lance was sure that was the end of the discussion and loosened his posture then, stretching his legs until he almost lied down in the couch. But Pidge, being the most obtrusive person ever, had other plans.

Reluctant to drop the subject, they spoke up once again after a minute of silence.

“Why don’t you just meet up with him or something?

“What part of ‘it’s complicated’ don’t you get?” Lance sighed, sinking further into the couch. “I can’t just do that.”

“Well,” Hunk started, voice suddenly hesitant. “You could always just… y’know, stumble upon him by accident?”

There was something in Hunk’s tone that made Lance narrow his eyes in part suspicion, part confusion. “What do you mean?”

“He goes to the same university as you. He was at the frat party, right?” When Lance nodded, Hunk continued, propping his arm up against the cushion to his right so he could lean his head against his hand. “I mean… The university’s not that big. It wouldn’t be completely surprising if you ran into each other. Besides, he’ll probably know it’s important if you contact him outside of whatever it is you guys have.”

“That doesn’t explain the ‘accidental’ part,” Lance observed, still eyeing Hunk in suspicion.

“Well… As it is, astrophysics majors attend the same building as me and Pidge. Just saying.”

“I could get you their schedule,” Pidge said nonplussed, eyes cast on their nails as if checking them for dirt, “Y’know, if you want it.”

Lance looked at them dumbfounded, completely at a loss for words. “Are you saying that you’d hack the-”

“Relax,” Pidge cut in, eyeing Lance with a raised eyebrow. “Matt tutors some of the first years. I could hack the university for info, though. If you need anything.”

“Thank you, but no thank you,” Lance finally answered, frowning slightly from Pidge’s request. They shrugged nonchalantly, eyes back on their nails as if they hadn’t just spoken up.

“Whatever suits you,” they opted to say instead, leaving the conversation at that.

 

* * *

 

When Keith still hadn’t shown up for another week, Lance found himself giving in to his friends’ advice.

Long after his last lecture had finished he was still hanging around campus, kicking at the ground feebly while eyeing the science building with somewhat apprehension. The sun was almost insufferable, scalding his back and making his shirt cling to him uncomfortably as sweat beaded at his temples and armpits. _Great._

He glanced at the information Pidge had sent him on his phone to make sure that yes, he still had five minutes before Keith was out of lecture. Then he tried to come up with an excuse should he happen to run into Keith.

_‘Should he happen to run into Keith’._ Who was he kidding? It was the sole reason why he was there to begin with.

He couldn’t help but feel so terribly out of place, a voice in the back of his head telling him _you shouldn’t be here_.

He stalled, watching the students entering and exiting the science building as they chatted idly among themselves. Tempted to take the coward’s way out.

_You both deserve to know what’s going on, man._

Taking one last breath, he finally headed towards the entrance with his hands clenched in resolution.

 

It was a relief to enter the air conditioned hallway if not for the science students milling around him. He scratched idly at the goosebumps appearing on his arms as he surveyed his surroundings, trying to appear calm. _Alright. Be cool._

Despite his best efforts, he could feel curious and long stares drifting towards him now and then, almost as if they _knew_ he didn’t belong there.

At least Keith wouldn’t have any trouble finding him. If he wanted to, that was.

He glanced at his phone, checking the time. _Three minutes._

He suddenly wished he’d brought something with him to distract his nerves as his hands kept fidgeting with whatever was within reach. Kept fidgeting with the hem of his shirt, smoothing the fabric and checking his armpits for spots. He didn’t stink... right?

He lowered his arms when one of the students near him sent him a questioning glance. Tried to stay indifferent until they finally looked away.

_Two minutes._ He fetched some water just to kill time. Was tempted to just drench himself in it while he was at it. Damned heat.

_One minute._ He texted Hunk one last time as he prepared himself for what was about to come. He got a text back almost immediately after he’d hit send, an encouraging _you can do it!_ visible on his screen.

He took one big breath as the minute passed by.

_Any second now._ The door stayed closed, and Lance cursed his nerves kicking into overdrive.

Was this even the right auditorium? What if they’d changed the room last minute? Had the lecture been cancelled?

He was startled out of his thoughts when the door burst open, and he had to step back as students started flooding out of the classroom and into the hallway.

A few stood around as they waited for their friends, others were in a hurry to get out and away. It was mildly put chaos, and Lance had difficulties keeping track of all the students as he skimmed the crowd for a familiar face.

He tried to ignore the once-overs he got in return, the _who is he and what is he doing_ shared between friends and sent in his direction as he navigated the thinning crowd, giving up on his former cautious attitude.

“Hey!”

Lance’s heart skipped a beat when he felt a sudden grip on his shoulder, and he had to contain himself, slowly turning around to face-

Oh.

The stranger that held onto his shoulder had a friendly smile, albeit he looked a bit concerned as he looked him over.

When he was sure he’d gotten Lance’s attention, he let his hand fall. “You looking for something?”

“I...” Lance almost wrecked his head trying to come up with an excuse until he thought better of it and just went right for the truth. “More like someone. Astrophysics, right?”

When the guy nodded, Lance felt his shoulders sink in relief. Okay, so far so good. Now, the harder part… “Do you by any chance happen to know a guy named Keith…?”

The stranger furrowed his brows, the name obviously not familiar to him. “Uhhhh... not by name, no. What’s he look like?”

“Black, long-ish hair. Mullet?” When the guy remained indifferent, Lance groaned in frustration, trying to come up with other descriptions. “Kinda broody? About 5’10” tall, has a red pair of Doc Martens...?”

The description didn’t seem to have an impact on the guy who’d come to his rescue as he just shrugged helplessly at Lance’s inquiry.

He could feel the beginning of dread seeping into his bones as it dawned on him that this wasn’t going as he had been hoping.

Had… Had Keith been lying? Had he never actually studied astrophysics, never mind attended the same university? Had he just-

“Oh!” Someone perked up down the hallway, immediately drawing Lance’s attention towards the group of girls standing by the window. The tallest one of them was beaming at him, obviously the one who’d come with the outburst as she continued, “I think I know him!”

Lance and the other guy (what was his name anyway?) turned towards her as she gazed at her friends, almost as if she expected them to join in on the conversation.

“You know… The guy---” She started, then seemed to falter as she realized her surroundings. An obvious crimson overtook her face.

“You mean Steven?” One of the girls perked up, a mischievous grin on her lips as she seemed to register her friend’s flustered state.

“No, no! The other one! The one with the gloves!”

“Oh!” Lance was relieved to see the recognition hit the other girls as they finally caught up. “What was his name again? Kevin?”

“His name’s Keith,” Lance added in, and the others immediately nodded fervently.

“Right!” A moment’s pause. Then, “Didn’t he, like, drop out a few months ago?”

Lance opened his mouth. Closed it.

“Yeah, I think so?” One of the other girls added hesitantly. Some of the others nodded as well, as if they only needed the certainty of one of them to agree.

“I heard he was kicked out.”

“No. Really?”

“Well… makes sense, since, y’know--”

“Oh yeah, you’re right.”

“I think I heard that too...”

“No way! Then what about-”

“Hey… are you alright?”

Lance blinked. It was with difficulty that he willed himself to look at the guy next to him when he spoke. His brows were furrowed in concern, hand hovering above his shoulder.

The other girls seemed to catch up, voices slowly ebbing out as the group looked at him in different states of worry and uncertainty.

“I… yeah.” He cleared his throat, willing his voice to sound less strained than it felt. “He- you sure he was kicked out?”

“Pretty sure,” one of the girls stated, a wry smile reaching her lips as she eyed him over. “Sorry.”

“Right.” His smile felt forced as he backed away from the group. As he tried to act like he wasn’t having a mental breakdown, that his whole ‘search for answers’ hadn’t just left him with more questions instead. “Anyway, I gotta go, but thanks for the help-”

“Wait!” the girl who’d been the first to speak up interjected, a hand reached towards him that made him pause. “You should look for Takashi!”

While Lance only seemed to get even more confused, the whole group perked up by the mention of said name. Almost as if he was supposed to know who this guy was.

“Yeah!” one of the other girls immediately chimed in, “Takashi, of course!”

“Takashi…?” Lance looked uncertainly between the two of them, not sure whether he should step back into the circle or just give up.

“Takashi Shirogane,” one of the girls finished for him. When he still didn’t recognize the name, she elaborated. “Y’know, tall, really buff-”

“Hot,” one of the girls added helpfully, and the other girls giggled in return.

“Ever heard of ‘The Champion’?” The guy suddenly spoke up, and Lance turned to look at him in question. “Undefeated master of beer pong?”

“Huh,” was all Lance could muster at the moment as he tried to catch up, tried to assemble the new pieces of information. Processing.

“If anyone knows where he is, it’s him,” one of the girls stated, shrugging. Then, she angled her head with a thoughtful expression, “We’re gonna go and grab some subway. You wanna come, or…?”

“I’m good.” Lance’s voice was distant even to his own ears, his mind going one hundred miles a minute. Still he willed himself to smile apologetically as he backed away from the group, already on his way. “I better get going anyway. Thank you for helping me out, though.”

“No problem!”

He was almost out of the door when one of them called after him, “Hey - good luck!”

He stopped for a second to wave in acknowledgement at the group, a small “Thanks!” called their way before he finally left, suddenly in a hurry to get away from campus so he could gather his thoughts.

 

* * *

 

He didn’t know what to think of it. What should’ve been an easy - perhaps mildly uncomfortable - confrontation between him and Keith had evolved into a whole different kind of interrogation than he’d suspected. In the end he’d only become more confused than he was to begin with.

So. Keith had dropped- no, been _kicked_ out of university. Not yesterday or the day before that, but apparently _months_ ago. All without telling Lance. Was this what he’d been trying to hide from Lance - and if so, why?

Was there anything else he didn’t know? About Keith? About the two of them?

Did he really know Keith at all?

 

“I don’t get it.”

After a day of processing last night’s new insights, Lance found himself at Pidge’s place, gathered at the kitchen table with his friends as he was trying to keep the rest of himself together. “Why wouldn’t he tell me that he got kicked out? It’s not that much of a deal.”

“It probably is for him. Besides, I don’t think he wanted you to find out like this,” Hunk tried to reason, hand reached towards Lance in reassurance.

“He probably didn’t want me to find out _at all,_ ” Lance said bitterly, deflecting his friend’s touch by scooting further away. “It’s just… Why? Why would he ignore me for this?”

This couldn’t just be it. There had to be more to it. He just didn’t know _what_ it was yet.

At this point, he didn’t even know what he knew.

He leaned his head against the table and sighed dramatically to prove his point further. When he met Hunk’s gaze again, he found the latter’s eyebrows drawn into a frown.

“I’m sure there’s an explanation for this…” Hunk added after a minute of silence, and Pidge nodded silently in agreement. Lance was having none of it, though.

“But what if there isn’t?” He rested his forehead against the tabletop, avoiding the looks his friends were giving him. “Besides, the only clue I’ve got is this guy they wouldn’t shut up about.”

A guy that was, presumably, everything that Lance was not. He couldn’t help the nagging feeling that he _should_ know who he was, but whenever he tried to connect the name to a face, he came up blank. Because this - _this_ was the guy who supposedly knew Keith?

“Oh.” Hunk was silent for a long time as he regarded Lance with what seemed to be concern. “As in…?”

“I don’t _know._ ” Lance’s hair was probably sticking up in all kinds of directions from how many times he’d run a hand through it. Didn’t mean he wasn’t about to do it again. “Apparently he calls himself ‘The Champion’. Who even calls themselves that?”

He didn’t know what he’d expected. What he didn’t anticipate was the sudden laugh that burst out of Pidge.

“Wait… The _Champion?_ ” The look Pidge sent him was incredulous. “What was his name again?”

At first Lance just stared. Then, hesitantly, he added, “Takashi… something.” He scrunched his nose up trying to remember the name. “Shirogane?”

“Oh my God,” Pidge started, then louder, “Oh my God, _Matt!_ ”

There was some shuffling from inside the other room, a muffled “Huh?” before Matt finally emerged from the doorway. “Wassup?”

Pidge was wearing a grin stretching from ear to ear as they leaned against the table, gaze shifting between their brother and Lance. “Lance is looking for _The Champion. _”__

The laugh that escaped Matt was equally surprised, the kind of laughter that leaves you buckled over with a hand covering your stomach. “Oh my God, they still call him that?”

“Call who what?” Lance interjected, not exactly liking being the butt of the joke.

“You know Shiro, right?”

“Uh…” Lance looked conflicted, trying to remember if the name had ever been brought up between the two of them before, “No?”

“New Years Eve?” Matt asked again. “Y’know, one of the guys who hosted the party?” When Lance just shrugged in reply, Matt furrowed his brows in confusion. “Weren’t you there when we all hung out?”

“Lance was too busy necking on some guy he’d just met,” Pidge pointed out, their smile mischievous as Lance swatted at them with an undignified, “Hey!”

Matt laughed incredulously, shaking his head as he processed their words. He didn’t speak up again before he’d gathered himself, lounging against the doorframe.

“So... what do you need _The Champion_ for?” Matt looked like he was having the time of his life, a smug grin tugging at the corner of his lips.

“Lance’s boyfriend is ignoring him, and apparently Shiro’s the only one who knows where he is.”

“He’s not my boyfriend!”

“Whatever,” Pidge waved at Lance offhandedly, “You know what I mean.”

“He’s probably at the frat?” Matt shrugged, then seemed to think better of his actions and fished his phone out of his pockets. “I can text him if you want?”

“I,” Lance started, then blinked as he caught up with the words. “Yeah. That’d actually be great.”

Matt tapped away at his phone, then, “Woop. There ya go.”

It wasn’t until then that Lance comprehended what he’d agreed to. That he was one step closer to solving the mystery of Keith. That he was one step closer towards meeting the friend that everyone else seemed to have acquainted already.

Well shit. What was he supposed to do? Was he even prepared for this? Was-

“Well, what are you waiting for?” Hunk asked when a minute of silence had stretched between the four of them. Lance looked at him in half surprise, half confusion as Hunk shooed at him.

“What do you mean?” He started, reluctant to leave his seat.

“ _The Champion’s_ waiting for you,” Pidge said mockingly. Even Matt giggled at the mentioned nickname.

Slowly Lance stood up from his chair, looking between the three of them. “You sure?”

As if in response, Matt’s phone buzzed. Everyone was dead silent, heads turned towards him as he read the message.

“He’s free,” he finally said when the tension had grown too much, and his friends were so caught up in the moment that they immediately whooped in response.

“Come on Lance! Go get ‘im!”

“Fine,” Lance gave in, hands held high as he moved towards the doors. “Geez.”

As he was busy with lacing his shoes another buzz came in, and for a second the whole kitchen was silent once again.

“Hold up.” Lance was able to hear the muffled, disbelieving sound of Matt even from the front of the house as he prepared himself to leave. “Are you shitting me-”

And as much as Lance wanted to be there to hear whatever Matt was about to say, he knew he had other places to be. He was out the door before he got to hear any more.

 

* * *

 

Standing in front of the frat house he’d visited half a year ago was almost even more surreal to Lance than the actual situation he was in. In daylight the house looked nothing like how he remembered it from New Year’s Eve. If anything, it looked kind of _plain._

Lance’s hands were sweaty from the sudden nerves that came back once he’d come down from his high he’d gotten from his friends’ excitement. It was with effort that he convinced himself to go inside.

The hallway seemed foreign in all its emptiness, somehow slowing his steps as he looked around with a certain hesitancy. There was a lingering smell of delivery pizza and beer wafting down the hallway.

The smell led him to the living room, where he was met by a guy slouched in the nearest couch, pizza balanced on his thighs as the tv broadcasted _South Park._

“Uh,” Lance started before stopping, unsure how to approach the situation. It was enough to catch the attention of the stranger, though, and as he met his gaze, he found himself sputtering, “Takashi?”

“Upstairs.” The guy barely spared him a glance before his attention was directed back at the television.

“Thanks.” Lance didn’t linger too long to wait for an answer before he headed upstairs in search of him.

 

It took him several tries and some mildly uncomfortable interventions before he finally found the right room.

“Hey, uh, Takashi?” He said, awkwardly standing in the doorway as the guy perched by the desk looked up towards him and-

Oh.

“That’s me,” he answered, an easygoing smile reaching his lips as he stood up to welcome him. “You must be Lance.”

Of course.

_Hot,_ he vaguely remembered the girls describe him.

… Well, they certainly weren’t wrong. Tall, charming, nicely shaped jaw. Broad-chested. Daunting, yet with an air of humility. A shock of white hair that was oddly familiar and…

Lance realized he _had_ seen him before. Reminded him of New Year’s Eve and a screeching Matt running for his life.

He couldn’t help the dread that seeped into his bones, the bitter aftertaste in his mouth as he wondered why he’d even bothered coming at all.

How did he even compare to this guy?

Lance self-consciously dried his hand against his jeans before grasping the hand stretched out towards him.

Lance’s hand was met with cool metal. Despite the prosthesis taking up most of his right arm, Takashi’s grasp was firm, the metal smooth and elegant compared to Lance’s clammy hands.

He quenched the several questions he knew the guy undoubtedly had already been asked on more than one occasion, instead opting for a somewhat strained smile. Silence stretched between the two of them as they both retracted their hands, Lance’s throat too dry for him to say anything.

“So,” Takashi said, his stance betraying his relief that Lance didn’t ask about his arm. Instead he smiled warmly, revealing dimples on each side of his mouth, “I’ve heard a lot about you.”

It took a while for Lance to process the words, and when he did, he furrowed his brows in confusion.

“Matt’s told you about me?” He tried, and the latter only laughed in response.

“I wasn’t talking about Matt,” he responded, stepping aside to leave space for Lance to enter.

Lance took one step, then stopped. Looked at Takashi as he tried to comprehend what he’d said. He felt like there was something he was supposed to get, something obvious staring him right in his face.

Then, dismissing the intrusive thought, he gathered his courage and finally stepped inside.

He took his surroundings in with a certain caution, almost as if he was afraid of crossing some kind of barrier.

The room was surprisingly neat considering the fact that he lived at a fraternity house. His bed was made, his walls were bare of posters, and everything he owned was either stacked on his shelf or desk. Then again, he was graduating in less than a month and had probably packed away most of his stuff already.

Lance hadn’t realized he’d been looking for signs of Keith until he came up blank. No photos. No clothing of his.

He didn’t know whether the thought comforted him or not.

Deciding it was better to just go right at it instead of avoiding the inevitable, Lance finally willed himself to address the reason he’d showed up. “So… you and Keith-”

“Adopted,” he jumped him to it, and Lance-

“Wait, what?” Lance’s eyebrows touched his hairline as he looked incredulously at the latter, still not quite comprehending the words.

“We’re adopted,” Takashi repeated patiently, a small smile still playing on his lips, “That’s why we don’t look alike.”

“Oh,” Lance said, his voice an octave higher than normal.

_Oh._

It felt as if a sudden weight had been relieved from his shoulders. Lance could suddenly breathe more easily.

Shiro was his _brother._

Though, as the realization hit, another one followed. _Shiro_ was _Keith’s_ brother.

Well shit.

“Do you want some coffee?” Shiro cut Lance out of his thoughts, a kettle of newly-brewed coffee in his prosthetic hand.

Lance stood dumbfounded in the middle of the room as the puzzle ever so slowly slid into place.

This wasn’t the confrontation he’d been prepared for, nor what he’d been expecting. Really, the whole revelation had flipped his initial plan, had left him without any words or idea how to proceed. But then-

“Yeah,” he answered, and was surprised to find that he genuinely meant it.

Two cups were drawn from the cabinets and quickly filled to the brim with coffee. Lance found a spot near the desk and gladly accepted the cup that was handed to him.

The cup was scalding to his hands as he brought it up to his mouth.

“So…” Takashi started, a small smile still grazing his lips, “I guess this is about Keith, right?”

And- okay. Shiro might not be what Lance thought he was to Keith, but he was still _his brother._ The brother to the guy Lance was having casual sex with. Which probably made this situation a whole lot weirder than what he’d initially thought. And it should probably make him more cautious about what he was going to tell him. _Oh boy._

“I, uh,” Lance said hesitantly, drawing the vowels out as he tried to find the right way to start. “I’m kinda worried about him. He’s not responding to my messages.”

Shiro’s eyebrows raised, but other than that he didn’t look particularly surprised.

“Did something happen between the two of you?”

“I mean...” Lance closed his eyes for a second, clearly conflicted on how to respond. “Kind of…?”

Shiro silently brought the coffee mug to his lips. When he placed it down again, he looked contemplative, as if weighing his own words.

“Keith, he…” He frowned slightly, then continued, “He has some difficulties opening up to people he cares about.”

This time it was Lance’s turn to stay silent, patiently waiting for him to elaborate.

“He’s more of an action kind of guy,” Shiro continued, meeting Lance’s gaze with a certain determination. “And he’s prone to pushing people away whenever he’s stressed out or if they’re not being direct with him. He’ll just assume the worst.”

Lance couldn’t help the sigh that escaped his lips as he processed what Shiro had said. “How can I be direct with him when he’s ignoring me?”

For a moment even Shiro looked conflicted, his jaw strained as he hesitantly mulled Lance’s words over.

“He’ll come around,” he eventually assured him, something softening behind his eyes for a second before he shook his head, almost as if regaining his trail of thoughts. “It’s just… Keith hasn’t been close to a lot people in general. He’s not one to address his problems freely, y’know?”

Lance ran his fingers through his hair, undoubtedly leaving a few hair strands sticking up in different kinds of directions. With closed eyes he nodded solemnly before adding a croaked “I know.”

Shiro frowned, still looking troubled as he regarded Lance.

“But,” he added cautiously, clasping his hands together on the table as he leveled a heavy gaze at Lance that had him shift nervously in his seat, “I’m not the person you should be having this conversation with.”

It was with difficulty that he managed to avert Shiro’s gaze, fiddling guiltily with the hem of his shirt. “I guess you’re right.”

“Hey.” A hand squeezed his shoulder, and when he looked up he found Shiro’s gaze less stern, an almost fond expression on his face. “Don’t worry. Keith really cares about you - probably a lot more than you think.”

And-

Okay.

Shiro had clearly gotten the wrong idea of what Lance and Keith were. _Clearly._ Because there was no way that this could be true. No way-

“Are you sure?” Lance didn’t dare hope, but couldn’t help the slight tremor to his voice as he spoke up. The question had Shiro smile again, this time a lot softer than what he’d expected.

“I’m certain.”

They lapsed into a comfortable silence as Lance tried to process the words, their implication. Something that seemed so far-fetched- and yet, could it be true?

_Keith really cares about you,_

He could feel the warmth seeping into his fingers as he regarded the now empty mug in front of him. He fiddled idly with the handle, mulled over his thoughts.

_Probably a lot more than you think._

What if it wasn’t as one-sided as he’d previously suspected? A possibility that they could work this out, move on to new territory?

After a minute or two, he finally cleared his throat before meeting Shiro’s fond expression.

“I, uh, should probably get going. You know.”

The notion had Shiro straighten. As he pushed his chair back, though, he seemed to think better of it, seeking out Lance’s gaze once again.

“I can always text him, if you’d like?”

The words had Lance pause, and he could feel a certain panic growing at the thought as he fought to keep his cool.

“No, really, it’s fine,” he mustered, finally pushing himself to his feet. “Thanks for the talk, though.”

“Hey,” Shiro called, a smile tugging at the corner of his lips as he caught Lance’s attention one last time before he made his way out of the door, “Don’t be a stranger.”

And despite everything, he couldn’t contain the reciprocated smile that graced his lips as he nodded at Shiro in acknowledgement before turning on his heels.

 

* * *

 

He was dimly aware of the smile that was gracing his lips as he walked towards his apartment. The way he couldn’t keep his hands still as they drummed at his legs, channeling his excitement. The looks that were thrown his way. But even so, he couldn’t bring himself to care.

He hadn’t found Keith, true. But he’d found something else. Something he hadn’t dared to consider, to hope for - a promise that everything would be alright. Keith would come around. They could work this out, whatever this was.

 

Lance was two blocks away from home when his phone started buzzing. At first he didn’t notice, too caught up in his own thoughts. At the third ring, though, the insistent buzz got the better of him. He poked around in his pocket for a moment before he managed to fish his phone out, immediately glancing down at the name that had popped up on his screen.

**Incoming call - Keith**

He felt his shoulders sag as he sighed, his stomach immediately kicking with nervous butterflies. Remembering all the encouraging words he’d gotten along the way, he willed himself to calm down before hitting the green dial button. _You can do this._

“Do you know how hard it is to get in contact with you?” He said into the receiver once the signal had gotten through, his voice only wavering slightly as a nervous smile found its way on his lips.

He was met by silence on the other end. Then, finally, the audible sound of an exhale.

“ _Do you care to tell me what the fuck you’re doing with my brother?_ ”

Lance’s bounce to his steps immediately halted to a stop as he processed the words.

“I...” Whatever he’d been planning to say died on his tongue. He blinked once. Twice. “What?”

“ _Do you think I’m an idiot?_ ” Keith rebuted, his voice vaguely echoing back to him as if the signal was messing with the speakers.

“What are you talking about?” Lance tried, albeit his voice had a new waver to it that hadn’t been there just a moment ago. He quickened his pace, suddenly in a hurry now that he was barely a block away from his apartment.

“You know exactly what I’m talking about.”

The echo following his voice was louder this time, startling him out of the conversation as he looked up towards the voice on autopilot.

There, right outside his apartment block, his gaze locked onto a figure hunched on the doorsteps, a phone in hand. It didn’t take long before he looked up, and Keith’s eyes immediately sought him out, his gaze as intense as ever.

Lance could feel his throat tightening as he hit _end call,_ the contentment he’d felt barely five minutes ago suddenly replaced with caution as he struggled with the keys in his pocket.

When Keith didn’t budge he had to edge his way around him, trying to ignore the stubborn steps that immediately followed him on his way as he unlocked the door to his apartment.

He barely made it inside before Keith rounded on him, finger boring into his chest.

“I’m going to say this once,” he hissed, leaning threateningly into Lance’s space as he enunciated each word he spat out of his mouth, “Keep Shiro out of this.”

“Keep him out of what?” Lance bristled, pushing Keith aside as he moved further into his apartment to _get some space._ “Geez, would you calm down for a minute?”

Keith followed him, moving to the opposite side of the table in his kitchen as he stared him down. Blood was roaring in his ears, pumping through his veins as he tried to gain control of his breathing, tried to calm down.

“I’m calm,” Keith stated, not exactly the picture of calm as he crossed his arms. Obviously fuming.

Lance braced himself against the tabletop and took a deep breath. Exhaled.

“Look,” he started hesitantly, struggling to find the right way to phrase his thoughts, “I didn’t mean to bring Shiro into this. It just _happened._ I just want to know what’s going on, man.”

Before Lance had the chance to continue, Keith was already back at him, mimicking his stance as he narrowed his eyes at him.

“What do you mean, ‘just happened’? How did you ‘just happen’ to run into my brother?”

“Can you just- will you hear me out?” Lance pinched the bridge of his nose, trying and failing to maintain his cool. “Something’s obviously going on in your life right now. I’m just-”

“Nothing’s going on.”

“Cut the crap. You’ve been ignoring me for weeks!” Lance’s exhale came out shakily as he tried to get his bearings, mustering some kind of forced calm. “I literally had to find out from Shiro that you got kicked out of university.”

Keith was silent for a long time. Then, with a notch in his voice, he finally spoke up.

“I didn’t tell Shiro.”

The notion left them in another round of silence. Lance sighed, somewhat in frustration.

“Would it kill you to let anyone in?” He said eventually, dropping his arms to his sides.

Keith’s eyes hardened, gaze unwavering.

“What does it matter to you?” He rebuked.

“What does it matter to me?” Lance echoed incredulously, a bitter huff escaping his lips. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

“Why should I?”

_Because I care,_ Lance thought desperately, pleadingly, _Because I think I might have fallen for you._

The words caught in his throat. They were right there, could so easily be spoken, and yet-

He couldn’t. Lance couldn’t.

What did eventually come out was, “Because that’s what we do.”

He knew it’d been the wrong thing to say the moment the words were out of his mouth. Could tell by the way the words fell flat, transcending into an all-consuming silence.

“So _that’s_ what this is all about, huh?” Keith said, a certain irritation taking over his stance. “You’re angry I didn’t tell you during one of our, what’s-it-called, ‘truth games’?”

“That’s not what I meant,” Lance started, but by then Keith had steered onto his course.

“Oh I’m sorry, how do you want me to apologize?” he mocked, placing a hand on his hips for extra effect. “Should I tell you my tragic background story? Wanna hear about my daddy issues? Or would you rather know the last time I took a shit? Judging by the way you’ve had your nose all up my ass, you’d probably know better than me.”

“ _Stop it!_ ” Lance finally snapped, all sense of composure gone.

“Stop _what?_ ” Keith retaliated, leaning over the table so as to meet Lance’s eyes more forwardly.

“Just… Stop whatever it is you’re doing,” Lance eventually managed, exhaustion seeping into his voice as he tried to gather himself. “Stop pushing me away.”

“How about you stop invading my privacy.”

“For the last time, I was _worried_ about you for Christ’s sake!” For a heart wrenching moment Lance’s stance crumbled, and he used his hand to cover for his eyes momentarily as he blinked harshly. _Don’t cry._

“Then why aren’t you respecting my boundaries? Why is it you need to know everything about me?” Keith asked, exasperation evident in his voice. “Why do you care?”

“ _Because,_ ” Lance tried to ignore the way his voice cracked, clenching his hands in anger so as not to give his grief away. “I thought you were better than that.”

“I thought _you_ were better than that,” Keith retaliated, echoing Lance’s accusation right back at him. “And you fucking backstabbed me! Went behind my back without even asking!”

“I didn’t mean to!” Lance ran a hand wildly through his hair, ignoring how it probably stuck out in several directions. “I just wanted to help.”

“Well you didn’t.”

“So what, you’d rather I’d just pretend nothing happened? That you were ghosting me for absolutely no reason?” Lance rebuted, throwing his hands to the sides in an extravagant shrug.

“Can’t you take a fucking hint?” Keith spat, narrowing his eyes at him, “Do I need to spell it out for you?”

“ _Yes._ ” He groaned in frustration, taking a moment to regain his composure. When he spoke up again, his voice was a lot calmer than it’d been before, albeit it was borderline desperate. “Why have you been avoiding me?”

“Why don’t you tell me?” Keith stared at him unwaveringly, jaw clenched. “Since you’ve got me all figured out.”

Lance breathed out.

“I thought…”

… He’d thought they were better than that.

He’d thought they stood a chance.

He’d thought that maybe, just _maybe,_ Keith had cared.

Lance’s voice faltered when Keith stubbornly held his ground, completely indifferent to the vulnerability that’d suddenly caught him.

Then, less dignified, Lance averted his gaze, a certain bitterness seeping into his voice as he said, “You know what? Fine.”

Whatever confidence Shiro had given him had ebbed out, instead replaced with a sudden, hollow ache in his chest. With a sense of finality he went towards the entrance, tearing the door open.

“You wanna run and hide like the coward you are? Great. Be my guest.” With emphasis, Lance gesticulated out the door with shooing motions.

(For a painstaking second, Lance was hoping that Keith wouldn’t take the bait. That they could somehow still work this out.)

(But then again, if that was what he’d expected, he really didn’t know him at all.)

Keith didn’t need to be told twice. He pushed himself off the table, the legs of the table scraping soundly against the floor. He didn’t spare Lance a look as he went past him, head held high as he shouldered his way out the door.

Once the door was slammed shut, Lance was left in an eery silence he could feel all the way in his bones.

 

That night he didn’t even bother to get undressed, just went straight to bed and collapsed on top of his covers.

 

* * *

 

He couldn’t find it in himself to be surprised when he was woken up by the sound of gentle knocking on his door. Couldn’t bring himself to care, either, even as he heard the muffled _Lance_ from the other side. Just tried to will himself back to sleep. Postponing the inevitable till later.

It wasn’t long before the sound was replaced by muffled murmuring, followed by the unmistakable sound of his spare-key fitting into the keyhole. There was some shuffling around his apartment, the sound of a few bags dropping onto his kitchen table before the steps made it towards the hallway, then the creaking of his door.

“Hey,” Hunk stood hesitantly at the doorframe as he looked Lance over, a mixture of caution and sympathy visible in his posture, “You didn’t answer your texts, so I figured something was up. You okay?”

He furled further in on himself, hiking the blankets up over his ears until he could barely see the other, a muffled, “Yeah,” barely audible.

Hunk heard it, though, and with a final sigh he made it over to the bed, the mattress creaking and dipping underneath his friend’s weight.

“You wanna talk about it?” Hunk’s hand was warm on top of the covers, a comfort weight against Lance’s upper arm. He shrugged, the movement causing Hunk’s hand to slide off until it rested against the bed. It wasn’t long before his hand was back on his arm, though, moving soothingly up and down until Lance couldn’t avert his gaze.

“I brought breakfast with me,” Hunk added after a moment of silence, a hopeful smile gracing his face, “It might still be warm.”

“M’ not hungry,” Lance protested, trying to turn his back fully against his friend. But Hunk wasn’t Lance’s best friend for nothing. He knew his way around.

“Shame. Guess I’ll just eat the omelettes on my own.”

Lance tried not to give in. But as stubborn as he might’ve been, his curiosity always got the better of him.

“Omelettes?” The bed creaked underneath him as he turned around to face Hunk, a certain vulnerability betraying his voice as he sought the other’s gaze.

“Your mom’s recipé.” A fond, full-on smile overtook Hunk’s face as he patiently met Lance’s gaze.

A moment passed. With one defeated groan, Lance reluctantly pushed himself off the mattress.

“Ugh. Fine.”

He watched the way Hunk’s shoulders sank in relief and decidedly didn’t comment on it, instead following his best friend out into the kitchen where he’d already put the food.

 

The omelettes were indeed still warm once Lance finally came around for his first bite.

The spices added to the food was a welcomed replacement of his otherwise empty stomach, settling contently in his stomach as well as making him (despite all that he’d been through the other day) feel slightly better.

Hunk was watching him the whole time, actually taking time to fetch him a glass of water as well as brew coffee when he’d coughed into his hand, his parched throat making it difficult to swallow at first.

Lance was brought out of his thoughts by the hesitant knock on his door. Before he could react, though, Hunk was already out of his chair, apologetically muttering, “Don’t worry, I’ll get it,” as he stormed towards the entrance.

His suspicions were confirmed when words spoken in soft voices were exchanged in the doorway before, finally, Pidge emerged into the kitchen.

“Aaaaaaaand he lives,” they announced to the room, drawing out the vowels as they made their way towards the chair opposite Lance.

He winced as the chair scraped against the floor obnoxiously, the noise forcing his attention towards them as they finally settled down, already easing food onto their plate.

“What are you doing?” Lance asked cautiously, eyeing Pidge skeptically as they shoveled food into their mouth.

“Trying to lighten the mood,” they answered, their words muffled as they munched on the food. “How are you doing?”

“… Better,” Lance reluctantly admitted after a moment’s pause, pushing his food around with his fork before taking another bite. Pidge hummed in acknowledgement.

“Here ya go!” Hunk brought each of them a steaming mug of coffee before he eased himself into the chair next to Pidge, eyeing what was left of the breakfast on the table longingly. It wasn’t until Lance gave him an encouraging nudge with his foot that he finally gave in, shoveling the rest of the leftovers onto his plate contently.

“So,” Pidge chimed in when most of their platter was empty, “I guess it just wasn’t meant to be, huh?”

“ _Pidge,_ ” Hunk chastised immediately, sending them a sullen stare while Lance tried not to flinch too hard. “Too soon.”

“Hey,” they retaliated, crossing their arms as they regarded Hunk with a leveled stare, “Lance is not a child. No need to beat around the bushes.”

Then, as they turned towards Lance, their gaze softened, almost as if they regretted their choice of wording.

When they spoke up again their voice was a lot more hesitant. “You tried, Lance. But you can’t save everyone.”

Lance didn’t know what to answer, instead opting to shrug wordlessly before shifting his gaze towards his food. His shoulders stayed hiked up around his ears, his head slumped forward so as not to meet Pidge’s gaze.

Across from the table Pidge sighed.

“You know what,” they spoke up once again when he stayed silent, leaning forward as they tried to catch his attention, “Screw him. Screw Keith.”

He couldn’t help but scoff at the irony that he was, in fact, _not_ screwing Keith.

Which was probably all for the better, he figured.

“You should finish your plate,” Hunk said warily when Lance just kept pushing the remaining food around his plate sullenly. Sighing, he pushed the plate away from him instead.

“I’m full,” he stated, keeping his gaze set on the table as he tried to will away the pitying looks he knew he was receiving.

He knew he wasn’t being fair towards his friends, especially since they were going out of their way to make sure that he was okay. It was just... with everything that’d happened the last 24 hours, he just felt so… drained.

The fucked up part was that he was still trying to comprehend it all, reminding himself that it wasn’t just a dream.

Keith was gone. For good, this time.

They sat in silence for some time. Then, he heard the sound of one of the chairs scraping against the floor, then the sound of tentative footsteps. It wasn’t long before he felt Pidge’s arms wrapping around him as they buried into his side, followed by Hunk’s strong embrace.

And then they just sat there in a comfortable silence. Not speaking, just feeling each others’ company. Reminding him that they were there, that they cared.

When they eventually let go of him, Lance’s eyes were wet with unshed tears. He laughed nervously, the sound coming out warbled and bubbly from his sorry state.

“Sorry for being so pathetic, guys,” he finally managed to get out, a small hiccup making its way halfway through his sentence.

Hunk squeezed his shoulder fondly, a small smile gracing his lips.

“It’s okay, man,” he said evenly, crouching down on Lance’s level so he could meet his gaze, “It takes time. It always does.”

“I brought Killbot Phantasm One,” Pidge piped up from his other side, raising their eyebrows expectantly as Lance met their gaze. “If you wanna play?”

When Lance found a small smile on his own lips, it was, for once, genuine.

“Of course.”

 

* * *

 

He deleted the message he received from Takashi five days later asking what happened between him and Keith. Deleted his conversations with Keith as well while he was at it.

He kept his number, though. Turned his phone off and pretended his finger hadn’t stalled too long over the ‘delete contact’ button.

 

* * *

 

Lance did okay in most of his exams. Granted, he could’ve done better had he not been distracted, but he didn’t fail any of them.

He went out to celebrate with his friends after their last exams, treating themselves with expensive coffee that they’d probably come to regret later.

His mother was waiting for him when he arrived back at his apartment. She enveloped him in an embrace, covering his face with small kisses before she muttered, “I’m proud of you,” into his ear.

 

The drive to his parents’ home was just about three hours long (or, as he’d come to find out during the last year, two-and-a-half albums of Earth, Wind and Fire’s _Greatest Hits_ played on repeat). His mother switched between talking to him and singing along off-tune, prompting Lance to either tease her or sing along.

As the second round of ‘Let’s Groove’ ebbed out, she glanced briefly towards him, a thoughtful expression taking hold as she turned down the volume.

“So, mijo,” she said, gaze already turned towards the traffic once again, though it didn’t stop her from frowning worriedly, “What’s troubling you?”

“Nothing’s troubling me,” Lance tried halfheartedly as the tunes to ‘Boogie Wonderland’ started playing invitingly on the radio.

This time, she chanced a stern look in his direction.

“Leandro,” she chastised him, voice firm. “I’m your mother. Talk to me.”

He sighed deeply before glancing out the window.

“It’s nothing, really,” he shrugged, trying to feign indifference.

For a moment none of them spoke. Lance got caught up in the song as the verse came around, mouthing along to the lyrics as an excuse to not elaborate his troubles. His mother was having none of it, though, and eventually spoke up again, drowning out the music.

“If anyone’s bullying my son at school-”

“Ma, no one’s bullying me!” Lance squawked, and her shoulders immediately sank in relief.

“Well, _if_ someone is,” she continued anyway, holding a hand up when Lance was about to interrupt her, “I want you to know that you’re a handsome, young man, and that anyone would be blessed to have you as a friend.”

“ _Mami,_ ” Lance whined, mildly embarrassed yet oddly warm at the same time as he turned to look at her. He could see a smile quirk at the corner of her lips as she stared ahead, fingers tapping along to the music on the steering wheel.

“I’m just telling the truth, mijo.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Lance said, a smile gracing his own lips, “I know.”

They sat in a content silence for another moment as the song ebbed out. It wasn’t long before his mom hesitantly spoke up again, her voice a lot softer than before.

“Is it a boy or a girl?”

Something ugly unfurled in his stomach, and he tried to school his expression into something less… _this._

“A boy,” he mumbled, then added as an afterthought, “I’d rather not talk about it.”

His mother squeezed his arm affectionately before she returned her attention towards the road.

He could tell that she wanted to intervene, wanted to insist that ‘this wasn’t nothing’. Instead, she nodded slowly. “Of course. I understand.”

She stayed silent for the rest of the journey.

 

His father was waiting for the two of them at the front porch, a hand brought up to his eyes to block the sun out as it was setting over the hills. The engine on the car had barely turned off before he was trudging towards them, waving eagerly as they stepped out of the car.

“It’s good to have you back, kiddo,” he said amiably when they had closed the distance, one hand clapping his back as the other ruffled the top of his hair as if Lance didn’t tower over him with at least half a foot.

Lance straightened his back once his father let go of him, an easy smile finding its way to his lips. He stepped aside as his mother came up beside his father, smothering him with kisses until she easily tucked herself into his side, a hand resting on his hips.

“God, I’ve missed this,” he admitted almost shyly as he ran a hand through his hair, unconsciously trying to repair the damage his father had done to it. His father barked a surprised laugh at his admittance, quickly swatting at his shoulder in an attempt to lighten the mood.

“Let’s get your things inside,” he said then, and Lance handed his luggage over.

At his father’s insistence Lance only got to carry the lighter bags while his parents carried the heavier, and he couldn’t help but worry over his dad’s lower back. If he was having any troubles he didn’t show, though.

“Where are the others?” He asked when they were halfway to the house, walking slowly so his parents could keep up.

“They’ll be here soon enough,” his dad responded, grunting slightly from the effort. His mother dropped the bags by the door as she searched for her keys. “Sophia’s coming this wednesday. Roberto and Anna’s got another week before they’re off work, though. Then Alicia and the rest will come.”

Luckily his room wasn’t far away from the entrance, just down the stairs and then the first door to his right. Once they’d all dropped his luggage into the room his parents stood around, not exactly sure whether they should stay or let Lance readjust to being home by himself.

It seemed like they both came to each their conclusion in the end, his father’s curiosity getting the better of him just as his mother turned on her heel, ready to leave the room.

“So...”

“Come on, Tony,” his mother interrupted, sternly jabbing at his father’s side as if she hadn’t been as curious as him barely two hours prior, “Let our boy rest for a while.”

For a second, his father looked as if he wanted to argue, but then he sighed defeatedly.

“Dinner’s in an hour,” he opted to say instead, eyeing Lance meaningfully before he left him to his own premises.

His mother lingered in the doorway after his father had left, sending him one last encouraging smile before she silently closed the door behind her.

Lance collapsed head-first into his bed the moment the door closed, an exhausted grunt pushed out of his lungs once his body connected with the mattress.

His room was mostly as he’d left it if not more neat.

Embarrassing posters hung all over the walls until there was almost no space left, light cords and glow-in-the-dark stars plastered all over his ceiling in mesmerizing patterns as soon as the lights were turned off. It was oddly calming, lying in the almost-completely dark basement with his eyes trailing the star-covered ceiling, and for the first time in the past month Lance felt like he could actually breathe.

Lance might not be okay at the moment, but he would be.

That was all that mattered.

 

* * *

 

Work at his parents’ house was a welcomed distraction. It was something he knew, a familiarity that fit him so naturally that it almost felt like he’d never left.

He’d get up at eight, eat breakfast at nine and then help his parents with whatever was needed, whether it was cleaning duty with his mother or gardening with his father.

He kept being in contact with Pidge and Hunk daily, trying to find time to skype with them at least twice a week as they updated him with whatever they were up to.

Hunk was leaving in three days to visit his grandparents at the Samoan Islands while Pidge was trying to get out of a camping trip with their family.

“ _How am I supposed to survive without wifi for two weeks?_ ”

“Don’t you think they have wifi hotspots in the area?”

“ _It’s in the middle of nowhere, Lance. I think my parents are deliberately trying to force me outside._ ”

Turned out they _did_ have hotspots, albeit the signal sucked big time. Apparently bad signal didn’t stop Pidge, and instead of joining their family on their daily hiking, they stayed indoors, curtains drawn if the bad lightning was anything to go by.

Whenever they skyped Lance they were sitting at a new spot, trying to catch the best signal so their conversation wouldn’t disconnect every five minutes (spoilers: there wasn’t any spot like that. Skype was a bummer).

“ _God I hate nature,_ ” Pidge grumbled for the nth time, their silhouette blurry and freezing every five seconds. Despite feeling bad for them, Lance couldn’t help but laugh at their sorry state.

Skyping with Pidge brought him another can of worms, though. They’d already warned him beforehand that Shiro had joined their trip, apparently an extension of the Holt family in such ways that he went wherever Matt was.

“ _He’s already asked about you twice,_ ” they said, eyebrows pinched in a strained expression as they leaned closer to the camera, almost as if they were trying to be discreet, “ _It’s so fucking awkward, Lance. I don’t know what to tell him._ ”

Lance always found an excuse to end the call before their family returned from their hiking trip, though. Some things were just better not to confront. Lance didn’t take any chances, and Pidge was kind enough not to comment on it.

 

It wasn’t long before his older siblings dropped by with their kids and spouses, and at once the house was alive with chit-chatter and laughter. Lance, being his nephews and nieces’ favorite uncle, was chosen to play the babysitter while his siblings joined his father on his newest project, an addition to his garage that needed some rebuilding and paint.

When Lance wasn’t too occupied with the kids (which was most of the time unless his mother took over), he would usually join his elder siblings, either by being moral support or by bringing them the tools they needed. After all, his family were all about teamwork, where each of them had a vital role in whatever project they were working on. Lance’s role was fluid - to help where help was needed.

They shared all meals together. Whenever the weather was good they would eat outside, sitting on the ground at noon eating their lunch as well as trying to cram the whole family around a table that could barely fit eight to begin with.

It was even worse when it rained, because then they’d have to fit all of them inside the kitchen. In the end they had to settle for several tables stacked after one another, and even then the kids had to sit by themselves in the living room instead. (Sophia had jokingly tried to convince his parents to let Lance sit by the kids’ table, calling him ‘their baby brother’, but they’d taken pity on him soon enough when they saw his expression).

It was oddly intimate and heartwarming sitting at the table, getting elbowed by his family members as they each tried to eat their food. It was loud, everyone fighting to be heard above everyone else until most were shouting.

Lance willingly helped his parents clean the dishes afterwards, engaging in easy chatter with Sophia while she leaned onto the counter until one of her kids would interrupt their conversation.

“So...” his sister tried one evening, scouting the room for any spying eyes before dropping the question he’d been dreading since coming home, “Planning on bringing someone special home soon?”

Lance was proud of how controlled he kept his posture as he kept washing the dishes, only pausing for a second too long. She leaned meaningfully towards him, a glint in her eyes as she waited for his response.

“No,” he said eventually when the silence had gone on for too long, not quite able to disguise the weariness in his voice.

He dropped the last plate onto the stack piling up beside the sink before turning the tap off. Before he could grab the dishtowel, though, his sister was already beside him, dishtowel in hand.

It should have been simple enough, his answer. Instead it seemed as if he’d left more questions, judging by his sister’s expression. She looked at him curiously, although not without sympathy as she turned the plate over in her hands, considering his answer.

She never got to come with a follow-up question, though, when their mother entered the kitchen, surveying the situation before she immediately recognized what was happening.

Sophia ducked her head guiltily when his mother not unkindly swatted at her, sternly scolding her, “Come on Sophia, give him a break.”

“I was just curious,” she mumbled, averting their mother’s gaze as she busied herself with the plate she was holding.

 

Even though she was more than determined to confront him with the question again, his sister never got the chance. After one week of hard work with his father, most of his siblings had to return home to their daily life.

On the day of her departure, Sophia gave him a long hug before she held him at arm’s length, staring him down.

“You and I will talk about this sometime,” she promised, squeezing his shoulders reassuringly. “Just know that I’ll beat whoever’s ass is toying with my brother’s heart.”

“Who says I’m not the heartbreaker?” Lance mumbled, somewhere in-between embarrassment and annoyance.

“Come on,” she said teasingly, “You’re the family’s crybaby. You’ve always been too caring for your own good.”

“Have not,” he tried to argue, but his sister cut him short with a laugh. Though, as her laughter died down, her mouth set in determination.

“You know,” she started, her voice soft as she caressed his cheek absentmindedly, “One day, you’ll find someone. Trust me, I know.”

And- as much as Lance was prepared for it… _well,_ he wasn’t. He was acutely aware that he was supposed to say something, supposed to break the building tension, and yet… he couldn’t help but wonder if he already had.

What if he’d already found the one, but then screwed up?

It wasn’t the answer his sister was looking for, nor the appropriate one. Instead he found himself swallowing the forming knot in his throat.

The smile Sophia sent him was sympathetic, her eyes softening as his silence sank in.

It was the same sympathy he’d seen in his friends’ eyes, his mother’s eyes, and, quite frankly, Lance had had enough sympathy directed at him. So he lowered his gaze, tried to come up with a way to redirect the attention.

Before he had the chance to, though, his sister ruffled his hair affectionately one last time.

“I have to go now,” she said regrettably, a sigh escaping her lips as she turned around. Then, just as she’d made her way to the car, she shouted, “Take care!”

He lifted his hand in acknowledgement, and only then did she get into the car.

They were off soon after, leaving Lance and his parents standing by themselves.

His eldest sister Alicia stayed for another three days with her kids until they had to leave as well. And Lance, despite already missing the last week’s liveliness of the house, couldn’t help but be mildly relieved once things had settled down.

 

Eventually even he had to go back.

The car trip was nothing out of the ordinary, just his mother squeezing his arm now and then when their chit-chatter faltered. It was pouring outside, almost as if whoever had control of the weather deemed it necessary to rub it in that summer was basically over.

It was pleasantly cold against Lance’s cheek as he leaned against the window, eyes lazily following the landscape as they drove by.

The album playing on repeat was a comforting constant, unconsciously present in his mind along with the patter of rain against the roof of the car as everything gradually became obscured by the heavy droplets.

It felt like he’d been resting his eyes for barely a second before he was suddenly jerked awake by the abrupt stop of music. Cheek smushed up against the window, he barely managed to squint his eyes open as he came to realize that they were already at their destination.

“We’re here,” his mother said after a moment of silence, apparently unsure of whether he’d woken up or not.

She unfastened her seatbelt when he only grunted in response, a sigh escaping her lips as she turned to face him.

He blinked groggily, fighting to stay awake when his eyes kept drifting closed. His neck ached uncomfortably from the unnatural position he’d been lying in for most of the ride, and his hand unconsciously made its way up to rub at the aching spot.

“How-” he stopped himself when he could barely get the words out, his voice surprisingly hoarse. He cleared his throat loudly, then tried again. “How long was I out?”

“Two hours tops,” she answered, a fond smile catching at the corner of her lips.

“Sorry,” he said guiltily, but she just shook her head in response, her smile still present on her face.

His back popped satisfyingly when he went to stretch his arms upwards, bending awkwardly against the roof of the car. When he was better for wear, he finally got out of the car.

His mother followed him outside of the car despite of the rain, patiently waiting for him as he gathered his bearings. A wet strand of hair kept getting in her face, and with an exasperated huff she tucked it behind her ear. She only had to turn her head towards Lance before the strand fell back into her face, and in the end she just let it be.

“Do you need any help with that?” she asked instead, looking pointedly at the bag Lance was currently wrestling with.

“S’ fine,” Lance managed to grit out, picking the last bag up so he was balancing all of them at once. “You’ve got a long way back. I can take things from here.”

Around them the rain grew even worse, fat droplets of water drenching his hair and getting into his eyes.

He might have wanted his mother to stay for a bit longer, and he was usually not one to complain about the rain. But he was also hyper aware that he’d packed his laptop on top of his clothes. Only a few more minutes with exposure to weather like this, and he wouldn’t be sure if it would survive.

“Well then,” she said, almost as if sensing his dread as she smoothed the wrinkles out on his jacket. “Take care, _mijo._ ” He leaned his head down as she planted a kiss onto his forehead.

“Don’t worry, ma.” Lance smiled encouragingly at her, a hand reaching up to his forehead where he could still feel the lingering warmth.

She patted his cheeks twice before she detached herself from him, already moving towards the car again. Then, before she got inside, she pointed a finger towards him meaningfully.

“And don’t forget to call home now and then!”

Lance couldn’t help the laugh that escaped his mouth, and he shook his head exasperatedly, although a fond smile was carved onto his face.

“Of course,” he said, and only when she’d been reassured that he meant it did she get inside.

 

He stood by and waited as the engine roared to life, and not soon after she was on her way home, leaving Lance outside of his apartment all by himself.

Great.

Carrying all of his bags at once wasn’t as bad as it could’ve been. His steps were wobbly at first, only made worse by the dread of slipping on the wet curb.

He was drenched by the time he got accustomed to the extra weight, but once he’d reached that milestone it went a whole lot better. Fishing for his keys once he reached his door ended up being troublesome, though, and he had to drop most of his bags by the door before he finally managed to let himself inside.

His apartment looked exactly like he’d left it.

He dragged his bags into his bedroom and tossed them at the foot of his bed, figuring that he could unpack later. He changed out of his soaked clothes in lieu of something more comfortable, then went to open the windows to get the musty smell out of his apartment.

His plants looked like they could use some attention, his orchids’ stems drooping low from the lack of water and love they’d gotten. Once he’d tended to them, getting rid of dried leaves and watered them, he went to brew some tea while he was at it.

The faint smell of wet pavement and citrus wafted to him as he sat down by the kitchen, cup in hand.

And then he just sat there, listening to the rain.

Scrolled through different apps and social media on his phone.

And sat.

There was something about being back home. Something about his apartment that made it feel like he’d just stepped back to routine. That everything was the same from when he’d left.

And… That might have been the case, but that didn’t mean that it sat well with Lance. Rather, it was doing the exact opposite. He felt detached somehow, like he couldn’t look around his own house without associating it with-

_Don’t._

He tried to swallow around the big lump that’d appeared in his throat. Instead it felt like he was choking on his tea.

He sat for another moment just staring at his cup, suddenly losing his appetite. Then, with resolution, he set to work.

 

* * *

 

“What are you doing?” Pidge looked at him incredulously the moment they stepped through his entrance, shaking their umbrella a few times before setting it aside.

“It’s called Feng Shui,” Lance answered, his voice strained from his desperate attempt at moving his couch.

Pidge scoffed.

“Lance, I’m pretty sure that’s not how it works.”

“How would you know?” He groaned, opting to faceplant the non-moving couch. “You live in a _cave._ ”

“Dude, you okay?” Hunk called out, sounding worried as he fiddled with his raincoat.

“Mmalright,” he mumbled against the tough fabric, head burrowed into the couch. Then, when the room drifted into a not-so-convinced silence, he peaked from the couch, his chin resting on the armrest “Are you just gonna stand and watch, or are you actually gonna help me?”

When his friends finally went over to his side, he dramatically pushed himself away from the unmoving couch, trying not to heave air in too noisily from the effort.

Hunk surveyed the couch for a moment, cocking his head to the side thoughtfully and bending his back to inspect it closer. Then, with what looked like no restraint at all, he managed to lift the couch slowly, all by himself.

“Woah,” Lance exclaimed, eyes blown wide in awe as he stepped away to make space. “Thanks, buddy!”

“No biggie!” Hunk said, just the slightest grunt the only indication that it took some effort from him.

Lance locked his eyes on the muscles flexing in his friend’s arms as he started carrying the couch single-handedly, sweat breaking on his neck. _Damn._ Lance almost felt like flexing himself, though he knew he wouldn’t compare to Hunk. Instead, he opted to move in front of him, leading the way.

 

Barely an hour later and the three of them (or mostly Hunk, actually) had rearranged the few movable furniture Lance had in his apartment. Popcorn was popping in the oven and Hunk was scrolling through movies on netflix. Lance could see Pidge lying comfortable on the couch in his peripheral vision, eyeing him smugly.

“Feeling balanced yet?” they asked sarcastically, a smirk visible on their face.

Now that Lance wasn’t busy trying to pretend that he was carrying the heavier part of the furniture he was able to notice the way their skin was parched from the sun, the skin around their nose already peeling off. How they’d gotten sunburned even though they’d stayed indoors most of the time was beyond his imagination.

As response, Lance stuck his tongue out childishly in their direction.

“You’re just jealous you haven’t moved out yet!”

“Nah, I’m fine,” Pidge said, leaning further down onto the newly rearranged couch, “I’ve got free wifi and no chores.”

Lance grumbled, no comeback at hand.

“Are we up for some Matrix?” Hunk called, looking behind his shoulder at the two of them.

“We’ve watched it, like, five times already,” Lance whined, immediately pouting even though Hunk wasn’t facing him.

“So?” Hunk said, finally turning to look at him with a raised eyebrow.

“What about Transformers?” Lance inquired innocently.

Pidge immediately groaned.

“Lance,” Pidge stated, looking him dead in the eye. “Transformers _sucks._ ”

“What?! You can’t seriously criticize a movie that’s starring Megan Fox,” Lance tried to argue, and Pidge didn’t even try to hide their huff as they rolled their eyes.

“I mean, it’s been awhile since we watched it last time?” Hunk said hesitantly, and Pidge immediately whipped their head in Hunk’s direction.

“Come on!” They scoffed, suddenly not as comfortable as they’d been just a minute ago, “You can’t be serious!”

Hunk held his hands up defensively, obviously intimidated by Pidge’s outburst. “Hey now, I’m just trying to find a movie we all want to watch!”

“Well I’m vetoing Transformers.”

Lance gasped.

“Don’t you _dare! _”__

“Watch. Me.”

Hunk sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose.

“Guys,” he said, trying to get both of their attentions, “Let’s just find a movie to watch.”

 

* * *

 

University started the week after.

He tried not to linger on the fact that Keith had been the one to help him choose linguistics as his major.

(Which was fine, until the go-to conversation among his fellow classmates showed to be the “so why did you choose linguistics?”) (how did you even refer to Keith? As his friend? His _ex?_ Quite frankly, he’d rather not bring him up altogether).

So he didn’t. Bring Keith up during conversations, that was. It’s not like he was the sole reason he chose the major anyway - he liked linguistics. There was no reason to elaborate further than that.

When lectures were over for the day, Lance went with his friends to the nearest café to study. It was a new thing they’d started to do weekly this semester, now that Lance had more time on his hands. Either they would go to the café or somewhere more quiet, just enjoying each other’s company if not to have someone to help each them get started. When he didn’t study with either his study groups or Pidge and Hunk, he was usually busy with work or something else. In other words, the wheels kept turning.

Life went on, not waiting for Lance to catch up. He had to do his own to keep up.

The café they entered was cozy, the atmosphere welcoming and the air smelling of roasted coffee. Bookshelves littered the walls, creating small, private spaces where other students sat, either writing on their essays or discussing this week’s assignment. Chatter filled up the space, and the sound of a crooning voice and acoustic guitar was playing on the speakers.

They found a spot by the window, legs crammed under a small table that barely had the space for Lance’s legs alone.

The sound of customers ordering their food and drinks were now and then cut off by the ring of a bell or the stirring of steamed milk as the waiters worked their way through their shifts.

Pidge and Hunk started discussing some of the day’s happenings while Lance fished around his bag for his textbook.

“Want me to get something for ya?” Hunk asked, standing up from his chair as he waited patiently for Lance.

“Yeah, that’d be great.” Lance grunted from the effort as he heaved his heavy books onto the table, the following thump causing the table to tremble slightly. It was probably going to be hard, if not impossible, to fit everything onto the table…

Hunk patted him amiably on the shoulder before he went towards the counter, leaving Pidge and Lance to themselves at the table.

Pidge was eyeing the table skeptically, textbook and pen in hand as they considered where they could place it. At last it seemed as if they gave up, and with a defeated sigh they balanced all of their things on their knees.

Lance found the page he was supposed to start at, already dreading the upcoming reading once he saw how small the lettering was. He was even stupid enough to count the pages, turning each of them until he could compare the amount to the whole compendium.

At some point Hunk put his cup of steaming coffee down beside him, but by then he was just staring emptily at the text in front of him, mildly exhausted. _Man,_ uni was stressful.

And then, at the tail of that thought, came another one unbidden: It still wasn’t enough to keep Keith out of his mind.

Because - and this was the part Lance found harder to admit - Keith had grown to be an ingrained part of his life.

It was all just small things, whether Lance was stumbling across retro music stores or storing soy milk away in the grocery store. Whatever the case, his traitorous mind would always find an excuse to lead his thoughts towards Keith. It was coming to a point where Lance couldn’t even touch himself without thinking of him, a thought that in itself was pretty messed up.

As much as he’d rather just get on with his life, it wasn’t necessarily easily done. With the way they’d parted ways, it was, if anything, nearly impossible to dismiss.

They’d been so close - just shy of being in an actual relationship - and then Lance had managed to screw it all up. He’d been too careless, so caught up in his own feelings that he’d never considered what Keith had wanted.

He couldn’t help but wonder that maybe if he’d acted differently, he would’ve been able to prevent the outcome. If there ever was-

“Lance?”

Lance blinked.

“Huh?”

He had to mentally shake himself awake before he registered the concerned glances his friends sent him. In front of him his coffee and compendium sat untouched.

“You there?” Pidge asked as they frowned at him in concern, their pen tapping against the textbook in front of them. “You kinda looked… You know.”

When he realized they weren’t going to elaborate, he tried to lighten the mood with an off-handed laugh.

“Sorry,” he said, grabbing his mug as if to look composed, only realizing in the moment that it’d already turned luke-warm, “Just got caught up in my thoughts.”

The looks he received in return didn’t look particularly convinced. Pidge’s tapping only seemed to take up speed as they held his gaze, their frown deepening.

Then, just as Lance thought they were about to interject, they sighed in defeat, returning to their text.

Hunk looked like he wasn’t ready to let it go either, but he must have seen something in Lance’s gaze because not long after he, too, returned to studying.

For a minute, he let himself watch his friends study, his mind blank as he listened to the scribbling of pen against paper, the turning of pages, the quiet chatter around them.

Then, as his gaze settled on the text in front of him, he let his mind wander back to his previous thoughts.

_Was there ever a chance that he and Keith could have made it?_

As much as it hurt to think about, Lance was slowly becoming less inclined to believe so.

 

* * *

 

“So...” Hunk started later that day when he’d showed up at Lance’s apartment, leaning towards him with intention as he eyed him. They were sitting on the couch, each on their phones before he’d broken the silence.

Lance hummed in acknowledgement before he looked up from his phone to give Hunk his attention. It wasn’t until he met his gaze that he continued, his fingers fidgeting with his phone all the while he talked.

“I know with Matt and his friends gone there won’t be great parties anymore, but!” at this, he held his finger up while his other hand dropped his phone onto his lap, “One of the guys from physics’ is throwing one this friday. Not a big one, granted, but it’ll be sweet nonetheless.”

Lance raised his eyebrow skeptically at Hunk’s not-so subtle persuasion, not sure whether to respond or not.

“Uhh-”

“Come on Lance, live a little!” Hunk prodded, looking somewhat desperate to win Lance over. “We’re almost one month in and we still haven’t been to a party yet.”

“I mean, fine. It’s just...” Lance frowned, trying to come up with an answer. What was the problem exactly? “You’re usually not one to obsess over parties...”

Hunk shrugged, his shoulders tense and his smile a little too bright as he rushed on. “Well… It _is_ the beginning of a new semester after all-”

“ _Hunk._ ”

“-and there may be this girl from chemistry going that I like. Like, a lot.”

Lance stopped in his tracks. Stared Hunk down.

“Hunk!” He said accusingly, putting his phone aside as he pouted at his friend. “How long?”

When Hunk just shrugged sheepishly, a crimson colour settling in his cheeks as he opened and closed his mouth in his attempt at explaining himself, Lance cut in again.

“Dude, why haven’t you told me?”

For a second Hunk stopped, his mouth forming a small o.

“Actually,” he started hesitantly, looking around the room as he tried to avoid Lance’s gaze, “I did. But you probably don’t remember because-”

“Right.” Lance felt guilt stabbing at his sides, reminding him of how selfish he’d been the last few months. The least he needed now was to let his friends down as well…

“But it’s fine, really!” Hunk was suddenly quick to add, hands held up reassuringly as if he could sense Lance’s uneasiness. “It was only a fleeting comment, like, right before the semester started. I would’ve been surprised if you remembered.”

It was only a small condolence, but one nonetheless. Lance took what he could get.

“Anyway. The party,” Hunk added then, immediately steering the conversation back to its original course.

Lance let him, not deeming it necessary to linger on his own insecurities. “What about it?”

“I already convinced Pidge, so I just need-”

“Dude,” Lance interrupted calmly, placing a hand on his friend’s shoulder, “I already agreed to go. It’s fine, really.”

“I- really?” despite his obvious attempt, Hunk failed to contain his excitement as his face lit up.

The smile was contagious. Lance couldn’t help but smile in return as he nodded.

Caught up in the excitement, Hunk quickly drew him into a bone crushing hug.

“You’re the best!”

“ _Woah,_ buddy!” Lance wheezed out, patting Hunk’s back not unkindly, “That’s enough.”

Hunk was still smiling when he withdrew, holding Lance at an arm’s length as the latter struggled with regaining his breath.

“Now,” Lance said once his breath had evened out, a wicked grin curving the corner of his lips as he poked at Hunk’s side teasingly, “About that girl…”

That was all it took to get Hunk back to his flustered state, an actual whine escaping his lips as he moved further away from Lance.

“Come on…”

“Nuh-uh! You brought it upon yourself!”

“Ugh, fine.” Hunk sighed exasperatedly as he ran a hand through his hair, but even he couldn’t hide the smile that was touching his lips as he started opening up. “Her name’s Shay…”

Lance leaned back in the couch, nodding all the while Hunk started gushing about Shay, watching his friend with a warm fondness. And, as he watched Hunk’s eyes light up and how he tried to hide his small smiles, he let himself relive the thrill and excitement of his friend’s crush. Let himself be happy that Hunk had found someone.

 

* * *

 

The party was, as Hunk had said, not exactly big, but it was chill nonetheless. It was located on the first floor of a building not too far away from campus and had access to a nice backyard where they found a few of them hanging out despite the cold autumn air.

Hunk made a round of introductions, only stumbling briefly over his words when they reached Shay. Most of the people were just as welcoming and friendly as Hunk himself, so it was easy for Lance and Pidge to ease their way into conversations, albeit the two of them were somewhat hesitant to join in. Lance gladly accepted a beer when one was offered to him, taking pleasure in the slight warmth that spread through his body once the alcohol hit him.

They went perhaps a bit too much out of their way to embarrass Hunk once they stumbled upon Shay, but otherwise they deliberately went to hang out in the back as Hunk got caught up in his conversation with her.

“He’s such a goofball,” Lance commented once Hunk’s face turned crimson for the fifth time, apparently easily getting flustered around Shay. Pidge followed his gaze before humming in approval, a smirk curving their lips upwards.

“I think it’s cute,” they added, and Lance could only agree.

Eventually, though, as if Hunk could sense his friends watching him, he leaned in to murmur something into Shay’s ear. The two of them glanced in their direction, and it was with a somewhat fond exasperation that Hunk led her inside and away from their prying eyes.

“Aw man,” Lance whined, stuffing his hands into his pockets. Pidge was engrossed with their phone by then, the screen reflecting on their glasses as they tapped away.

“Look at this,” they piped up after a while before bringing their phone up to Lance’s face. On screen was a cat vine that made him laugh out loud.

“Nice.”

Pleased by his reaction, Pidge was quick to retreat their phone as they browsed some of the other videos, probably looking for something similar. Lance watched them absentmindedly over their shoulder, trying to get a glimpse of what the next video might be.

“I don’t think we’ve been introduced yet,” a voice to his right startled him out of his thoughts, and he was quick to turn his head to see whoever had approached them.

Next to him stood a brunette with cropped hair, her hip cocked to the side as a smile grazed her lips. As their gazes met, though, her smile faltered for a second, a certain confusion settling over her features. Half a second later, though, she lit up in excitement before she prodded a finger to his chest.

“I know you!”

“I, uh,” Lance said unintelligibly.

“You remember? New Year’s Eve?” When Lance continued to stare at her in confusion, she retreated her finger, instead gesturing at herself hesitantly. “Inés?”

Suddenly, it clicked.

“Inés,” Lance echoed, a surprised laugh escaping his lips as he regarded her. “From the beer pong table, right? You showed me where the drinks were.”

Lance’s suspicions were confirmed when she nodded, and he incredulously brought a hand up to his face, muttering, “Oh my God,” to no one in particular.

“Wow, it sure is cold out here,” Pidge suddenly interjected, looking between the two of them before a smug smile settled on their face. “I’m gonna head inside. Sorry. It was nice to meet you, though.”

Lance couldn’t help but notice how they didn’t sound sorry at all. _Traitor._ They were probably going to tell him on Hunk the moment they went inside.

“So…?” she mused once the silence had stretched perhaps a second too long, something akin to amusement gleaming in her eyes.

He mentally kicked himself for being slow in his response as he tried to find his voice, praying that it didn’t sound too rough. “Inés. Wow. Long time no see.”

“Long time no see indeed,” she echoed, sizing him up briefly before a grin stretched over her face. “So what brings you here? You study physics?”

“Nah,” Lance answered, a hand coming up automatically to scratch sheepishly behind his neck, “One of my friends invited me.”

Her smile only seemed to broaden as she listened to his response, shuffling slightly on her feet. “Me too.”

And despite the fact that he barely knew her, there was something relieving about that fact. That he wasn’t the only somewhat outsider at the party. “Cool.”

A small huff of laughter escaped her lips before she nodded, echoing, “Yeah, cool.”

The notion had an open yet loaded end to it, as if the small comment meant more than met the eye. Whatever it was, it had a small smile playing on the corner of his lips.

 

It wasn’t long before their conversation delved into other things, Lance getting into stories about Pidge and Hunk while his new companion listened in, laughing now or then or asking for clarification. At some point the night had become too cold, so they’d gone inside to grab some beers as they moved on to other subjects.

Several beers were emptied, and soon Lance was feeling a pleasant buzz in the tip of his fingers. He was the kind of tipsy where your teeth felt weird. He knew because he tried it out, running his tongue experimentally across his teeth as he wondered about the not quite unpleasant, but still odd sensation of it.

Whatever face he was making had Inés laugh, effectively putting him out of his thoughts as she bumped into him while laughing.

Inés was an English major who was, among other things, invested in Charles Dickens.

“And other British, dead authors, now that I think of it,” she added as an afterthought.

Lance snorted in return, an innocent gesture hadn’t it been for the beer he was currently holding to his mouth. Instead, in his inebriated state he managed to get beer foam in his nostrils, and he was suddenly coughing so as not to choke on his drink.

… Okay. Maybe he was a bit more than tipsy.

“Oh my God,” she exclaimed once he brought his hand up to his nose in an attempt to conceal what was probably a disgusting mess as the beer was threatening to run down his nose and chin.

Her laugh drew eyes towards them, especially those of his friends who were eyeing him slyly. He tried to avoid their stare, instead opting to fetch a tissue so he could clean the worst of his mess up.

“Wow. Okay,” he said, trying to recover from his near-death experience, “That was super gross.”

She was still laughing, clutching at her stomach as he grimaced, trying to get the worst itch out of his nose without actually touching it. So far, he wasn’t handling it very well.

Once she’d managed to calm down, she shook her head exasperatedly, a smile plain on her face as she wiped tears from her eyes.

“You’re a real charmer, Lance.”

Instead of answering, he just threw her finger guns with his free hand, winking for extra effect. The gesture made her giggle into her hand, her shoulders still shaking from withholding laughter.

After that, he tuned down on the drinking, which in hindsight just made him notice other things.

Like how close they were sitting. Or how she would always find excuses to touch him, her hand lingering just a second longer than necessary. Or how her lips tickled the hair on his skin whenever she had to lean close to whisper something in his ear.

His friends noticed too, judging by the way they were unabashedly watching them with a smirk on each of their faces.

And just because he was feeling so content in the moment, he let himself have this. Let his hand rest on her lower back when some of the others joined their conversation. Basking in the close proximity between the two of them when she sagged against his side after a particularly loud laugh, and afterwards when she stayed there.

It was something he’d missed, feeling wanted and desired. Being the center of someone's attention as he launched into another long story that had him move his hands animatedly. Having someone’s hand rest securely on his thigh underneath the table as he listened in on other conversations, and later a hand to loosely intertwine when drunken courage had won over his insecurities.

“Whatcha thinkin’ about?” she murmured when he’d gotten too caught up in his thoughts, effectively bringing him back to the moment. Where she’d formerly been leaning her head against his shoulder, she was now leaning slightly away from him so they could meet gazes.

A lazy smile reached his lips slowly as he knocked shoulders with her teasingly.

“Oh wouldn’t you like to know…”

“You bet,” she answered, biting her lips unconsciously as her eyes flitted downwards, looking at his-

Lance felt his breath hitch in his throat.

Yeah, she was definitely looking at his lips. No denying it.

He must have given something away. When she looked up at him again, a grin was tugging at the corner of her mouth until she was flashing teeth.

“I, uh-” He stumbled, mouth running dry at the sight of half lidded eyes.

He felt hot all over as her breathy laugh fanned over his face, as her hand snaked behind his neck, nails scraping against his scalp. Suddenly very aware of the few inches between the two of them that were slowly dwindling by the second.

“Shhh,” she whispered when their noses brushed, and Lance tried not to shiver from the tentative brush of lips.

The smell of beer was intoxicating, numbing to his senses. And yet he felt so terribly sober, was acutely aware that he was supposed to move-

As if sensing his reluctance to make a move, she took the lead, lips pushing against lips, leaning in closer until there was almost no space between them. As if on autopilot, his hand went into her hair, running through the strands until she sighed into the kiss.

And it should have felt nice. Should have been as sweet as it’d been barely five minutes ago. But instead it felt stilted, as if Lance was running more on instinct than actual want.

And that was the problem. It was nice to have the attention of someone, but it was no more than that - just the idea. Inés might be pretty and fun having around for company, but in the depths of his mind he knew that she was just a replacement of something he couldn’t have. Someone.

It took him an immense amount of willpower to turn his head away, clenching his eyes shut as he waited for her response.

For a moment her lips just brushed the side of his face, staying there for an uncomfortably long time before she got the gist of it.

“I’m sorry,” he said, trying to put as much emotion behind his words as possible. Because, he reasoned, they were both better off like this. They both deserved better.

A loaded silence stretched between the two of them as Inés seemingly processed his words, her hands hovering over the hem of his shirt. Up this close, he could feel her breath fanning against his cheekbone slowly, a complete contrast to his rapid beating heart.

Then, with some resolution, she disentangled herself from him, confusion but reluctant acceptance plain on her face.

“It’s fine,” she finally said, a wry smile reaching her face as she slowly climbed off his lap. “Just say it a bit sooner instead of leading me on next time, yeah?”

To say that Lance was embarrassed by his actions was an understatement. His shoulders hiked above his ears as he averted her gaze in shame. There really was no excuse that could make it up to her.

He not as much saw as heard when the chair scraped behind her as she got up to leave, excusing herself before walking briskly away from the room. Only then did he look up to see that he was left to himself by the table, most of the other partygoers spread to other corners of the house.

Everything was a blur when he finally mustered himself to move, music nothing but white noise to his ears as voices overlapped each other in their fervor to be heard. Lance sensed none of it, working on autopilot as his inner voice told him to just _go._

And then, just as he was about to let himself out of the house, he was slammed right back into his body when a warm hand weighed his shoulder down.

“Lance?”

He closed his eyes for a moment as he tried to gather himself. Tried to drown out the self-loathing when Hunk’s voice sounded concerned even though he shouldn’t have been there. He was supposed to be somewhere else, content in Shay’s company instead of seeking out his own.

He let out the breath he’d been holding as he turned around, meeting Hunk’s worried gaze with what he hoped was a convincing smile.

“I’m fine,” he lied, wincing slightly when his voice came out strained. Then, with some honesty, he added, “Just really wanna go home right now.”

Hunk’s mouth set in a firm line as he regarded his friend.

“Do you want me to get Pidge?“ he asked, but by then Lance was already shaking his head.

“Nonono,” Lance insisted with his arms raised reassuringly, not at all interested in ruining the party for his friends as well. “You guys stay here. I can find my way home by myself.”

“You sure?”

“Yeah.” Lance breathed the words out.

For a moment Hunk held his gaze, conflict written in his drawn eyebrows. Then, just as Lance was sure he was going to protest, he reached towards him, enveloping him in a warm embrace.

Despite his efforts, Lance’s exhale came out shakily as he returned the hug, burrowing his face in his friend’s chest as he squeezed him tight.

It felt like too soon when Hunk disentangled himself, giving Lance a stern look as he held him at an arm’s length.

“Just… take care of yourself, alright?”

When Lance couldn’t find his voice, he slowly nodded yes in response.

 

The walk home took a little less than twenty minutes and was sobering to say the least. Gave Lance the chance to breathe and gather his thoughts as he had nothing for company but city lights and stray cats. Which was both a blessing and a curse.

Starting with the blessing - Lance’s life had been a clustered mess for the past two months, trying to balance his social life with studies and work to a point where he’d forgotten to take the time to actually relax. And this - just existing in-between two places, a liminal phase where nothing was expected of him, he was finally allowed to just be and nothing more.

The curse - Keith. Keith on his mind, seeing Keith in shadows, and shaping the name on his lips like a mantra that was slowly driving him mad.

Because that was what he’d been reduced to.

And okay. He knew he was obsessing in a way that was borderline unhealthy, not exactly in the right way to move on at least. But there was some reluctance in him still, some small part of him that just couldn’t let it go, instead luring him into some belief that it might not be over just yet. That Keith was just a random encounter away from being a regular occurrence once again.

And as long as that kindle had the smallest flicker of a flame, it was never really gonna go away. Not until he’d been assured that there would be no more strings attached.

Once he was inside of his apartment, he stood by the door for a solid minute, back leaned against the doorframe as he counted down from ten over and over in his head. Counted until everything else fell away into the background, until the only thing audible to his ears was his breathing.

Then, finally, he let himself bury his hands into his pockets, his fingers hesitating only slightly as they graced his phone.

He was blinded by his homescreen as he turned his phone on, the cold light from the phone lighting the room up. His phone read 11:58 PM, the digits only half obscured by the cracks covering half of his screen. It took nothing but a pressed thumb against the home button to unlock it, immediately showing his default screen of an unflattering pic of Pidge sleeping on their back. One press with his index finger and he found himself on his contact list.

And there, among different acquaintances and friends, was the same name that had been haunting his thoughts all night.

Lance couldn’t help but notice the shaking to his hands as he pressed onto Keith’s contact info, thumb hovering over his number.

_Here goes nothing._

He pressed the call button.

He listened to the phone dialing, waiting…

Counted the seconds as they passed by. Then-

He didn’t realize he’d been holding his breath until the call went to voicemail. He felt the former suspense ebb out of him in waves until he felt deflated, an aftertaste of bile in the back of his throat. But then again, had he really expected anything else? Who was to say that Keith even wanted to talk to Lance?

_Beep._

And Lance, catching on a second too late, realized that he was going to leave a voicemail on Keith’s phone.

“Fuck.” Sudden nerves were clogging his throat as he fumbled with his phone, ready to end the call before he’d make a fool out of himself. But really, the only thing worse than leaving a message behind was if the only thing he said was a curse word. And- fuck it.

Now that he’d started it, he might as well finish.

Clearing his throat, he latched onto the first thought that came to mind, “Uh... I guess this is recording?”

Lance grimaced at his lack of creativity.

_Nice one, Lance._

It was starting to dawn on him that one thing was making the call, another was actually talking. But really, his impulsiveness was going to get his ass kicked if he didn’t start talking soon and _geez, just say something._

“Wait, that’s not how this was supposed to go.” Growing restless, he pushed away from the door and started pacing around his kitchen. ”Honestly, I’m not even sure what I’m doing.”

He winced, not liking how strained his voice sounded. “I’m sorry- I just... wanted to clear everything? Shit, you probably don’t even wanna talk to me, but-” He pinched the bridge of his nose, desperately trying to find the right words. “Just hear me out, yeah?”

For a second, he almost expected an answer. Instead, he was met by an eery silence, only broken by the constant thudding of his heart, the sound of his blood roaring in his ears.

Before he could lose his nerve, he started over, heading towards his bedroom.

“I’m… sorry I screwed up. I-, it wasn’t my place to invade your privacy without your consent. I shouldn’t have reached out to Shiro the way I did. Like I knew what was going on, what was best for you. Shit, I even _knew_ you’d be pissed- and still I did it.” He took a shuddering breath, remembering his own dread when Shiro had suggested texting Keith. _Come on._

He didn’t continue until he felt some of his tension release in his shoulders, choosing his next words carefully.

“I guess I was so caught up in myself and what _I_ was feeling that I didn’t stop to think - to ask how _you_ felt. I’m sorry.”

He bit the inside of his cheek, trying to stifle the shaking in his voice, wondering whether he’d already said too much. He closed his eyes before dumping himself onto his bed, his mattress protesting underneath his weight.

He drifted into a new round of silence as the meaning of his words seemed to sink in. He really fucked up, didn’t he?

“Man,” he said after a while, dropping his head on his pillow, “I’m such an asshole.”

He wouldn’t be surprised if Keith still hated him after everything he’d put him through. Really, what had he been hoping to accomplish with this call? It occurred to him how pathetic he was, how stupid he sounded.

How would this change anything? What had Lance expected, that Keith would forgive him? That Keith _could?_

“This was a mistake,” He realized too late, head leaning against his pillow as the thought struck him. “You know what? Just forget it. I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have called-” He struggled with his phone, suddenly in a hurry to end the call, “I’m just gonna... yeah.”

Lance collapsed against the mattress, arms spread wide as the room was obscured in darkness, his phone progressing the end of the call. And then, as he tried to calm himself, the screen lit up-

Two missed calls.

“Shit,” Lance breathed out, panic for once pulsing through his veins as realization hit him. “ _Shit-_ ”

Not a second later he felt the unmistakable buzz from his phone signalling an incoming call. Keith’s name flashed over his screen in bold letters.

Lance hadn’t planned this. This wasn’t supposed to happen. He was supposed to-

“Lance?”

He felt his breath hitch in the back of his throat by the unmistakable sound of Keith’s voice. Keith, who didn’t sound angry at all but rather confused and most of all utterly exhausted.

He’d barely registered when he’d gone from staring at his phone to pressing against his ear in anticipation, his heart hammering and…

Holy shit.

Too many emotions welled up in him at once, shame and guilt and grief and relief and lo-

Lance’s eyes widened.

He couldn’t do this. Not to Keith. Not to himself.

“I’m so sorry,” he choked out before hitting _end call_ as if his life depended on it.

For a second he just stared at his phone, barely comprehending what just happened. Then, with his heart in his throat, Lance held a finger against the lock button until his phone turned off, leaving Lance in complete darkness.

Only then could he breathe in easily, albeit his exhale came out shakily.

Tears were burning behind his eyelids as he clenched his eyes shut, his knuckles tightening on his bedsheets.

 

* * *

 

Keith was going to be pissed when he heard his voicemail.

No doubt about it.

 

* * *

 

Lance woke up to crusty eyelids and a bone deep tiredness wearing him down. The sun poured in from his window and blinded him without mercy, its inviting warmth passing right over him as he squinted at his ceiling.

There was something intimidating about the autumn sun - its rays were harsher to the eyes, more unforgiving than the warmer hues the summer had given off. They left him with the odd impression that he’d slept well into noon. In fact, he wouldn’t be surprised if he actually had.

With an enormous amount of willpower and effort, he finally succeeded in forcing himself out of bed. A groan escaped his lips as he had to literally drag his feet all the way to the bathroom.

The water was cold as it splashed against his face, taking the worst of his slumber out of him. Still, Lance didn’t think he’d ever felt as drained as he did right then, his eyes bloodshot and itching from a dreamless night.

He wasn’t even in the mood to run through his skincare routine, only managing to rub some moisturizer onto his T-zone before he lost interest.

How was Lance going to survive the rest of the day? Honestly, he just wanted to curl up in bed and pretend that yesterday didn’t happen, preferably while spooning Hunk. Or…

_Well._

Instead, he forced himself through his morning routines, forced himself to eat breakfast.

He scalded his tongue in his poor attempt to down his coffee in one go. Proceeded to spill the rest of his coffee on the table because the world liked to see him suffer. Fucking splendid.

Washing the dishes was surprisingly easier than expected. But then again, from the way his day had started he wasn’t exactly harboring any great expectations.

Because then, at some point when he’d run out of other options, he couldn’t postpone the inevitable any longer.

His phone was where he’d left it the night before, teetering at the edge of his bedside table. He reluctantly went for it, knowing that Hunk would probably be worried out of his mind soon if he didn’t send him at least one text telling him that he’d made it home.

But of course, in doing so he had to face other things as well.

And okay - Lance had known that this could possibly happen given the circumstances, but it didn’t make it any less easy for him to stomach. He sat down on the edge of his bed for a few seconds, breathing in labored breaths as he slowly gathered the courage to open the text message awaiting him.

**Keith**

**Text message**

**today** 01:03 AM

Can we talk?

 

He didn’t notice how long he’d been staring at the text until the screen turned black, the only thing visible being his reflection staring back up at him.

This… definitely changed something. Because Lance, quite frankly, had just needed closure (and by closure he meant that he just wanted to tie his own ends - he hadn’t been stupid enough to believe that Keith’d want to do the same. That was, until he actually did). And Lance, despite everything, still couldn’t let go of the small _what-ifs_ brewing in the back of his mind.

Because that was how they worked, right? Always back and forth, on and off. It was either good days or bad days, everything or nothing. Lance hadn’t realized how used he’d gotten to their relationship until he found himself expecting Keith to show up even after everything that’d went down.

Lance sighed. This was probably it, wasn’t it? Just an opportunity to talk things out reasonably and part on good terms. A way to leave undamaged, no loose ends.

But did he really need closure? What if it was better to just leave business unfinished instead of bringing up unwanted memories? There was some kind of finality to the situation that had Lance’s stomach churn uncomfortably in anticipation, the doubts of what would come out of it. Because he couldn’t help but wonder if this was just another dead-end. What if Keith chickened out last minute? What if this was just another ploy to screw Lance over, his way of saying “fuck you” before giving Lance the last push off the ledge?

_Well._ It was an opportunity nonetheless, one Lance was willing to take. He would just have to wait and see what came out of it.

**Keith**

**Text message**

**today** 01:03 AM

Can we talk?

**Text message**

**today** 10:43 AM

fine

where u wanna meet?

 

* * *

 

Lance checked his phone one extra time to make sure that the café in front of him matched the address Keith had texted him. Shuffled his feet nervously when it did, silently trying (and failing) to calm himself. Trying to hype himself up, reminding himself that _he’s got this._

Tentatively, he reached for the door handle before hesitating, hand hovering in front of him.

So much for damage control. Even Lance’s breathing pace quickened with the thought of him (he didn’t want to dwell on what implications that held). How was he going to fare once he’d have to actually see him in person?

It was with a tremendous amount of willpower that he finally got himself to open the door.

A bell announced his entrance with a soft chime, and the barista behind the counter spared him one small glance before he was back at the coffee grinder, at once drowning out the sound of smalltalk in favor of the machine’s whirring.

The café was almost empty of customers, leaving the atmosphere unusually quiet despite the sound of grinded coffee and milk being steamed. The ones that were there were sitting in snug corner booths, elbows raised high as they sipped on whatever brew the shop had in store. No music was playing on the stereo, and so the low murmurs of chit-chatter or conversations held on phones were what caught Lance’s ears.

Lance could see why Keith would choose a place like this. There was something about the interior or perhaps the surroundings that was so _him_ that he could’ve easily owned the shop himself. It wasn’t flashy like the chain coffee shops in town (if Lance had strolled by any other day, he probably wouldn’t even have noticed it), but it had its own charm once you actually paid it a visit.

Once Lance had made his way inside he found himself standing awkwardly in the middle of the café, pondering his next move (should he find a place to sit down? Should he wait for Keith?). He burrowed his hands into his jeans pockets as he bounced on his feet, trying (and failing) not to fidget too much.

Then, as if sensing his unease, the barista finally looked up at him from the counter, apparently done with the most recent orders.

“Can I help you?”

Lance visibly relaxed in his shoulders, a grateful smile reaching his lips. At least now he had something to do while he waited.

“Uh, give me a minute.” The walk to the counter was less than two strides, and Lance soon found himself engrossed with the menu. Then, finally making up his mind, he pointed towards one of the listed drinks. “Uh, this one.”

“Middle roast, alright.” The barista typed something on the screen, then looked up behind Lance.

“Can I take your order as well?” He asked, fingers hovering above his screen.

Lance startled, immediately following the baristas gaze onto the customer standing behind him, just for his eyes to immediately meet indigo.

Time seemed to still as reality hit him squarely against his sternum, leaving him breathless. Because apparently Keith still had that effect on him.

“I, uh.” Keith seemed more occupied taking Lance in than answering the barista.

Then, finally, something seemed to snap in him, and his gaze flickered towards the the barista. “Americano’s fine.”

Keith was wearing his usual clothes, a worn leather jacket combined with fingerless gloves and red DM’s. It was such a surreal yet familiar image that Lance had to shake his head to actually comprehend that this was happening.

That it was actually _Keith_ standing right there. _Welp._

His Adam’s apple bobbed nervously as he took Keith in, trying to stop himself from squirming in his near proximity.

Mustering the last amount of willpower in him, he finally forced himself to get out of his fright.

“Hey,” was Lance’s first reaction when the barista turned away to brew their coffee, eloquent as ever.

“Hi,” Keith responded back, apparently not faring any better.

All sound was momentarily stopped as the grinder sat to work, drowning out everything until all Lance could do was observe. Watch Keith play absentmindedly with the hem of his gloves, his eyes cast away for the moment. Then indigo, as he finally met Lance’s gaze.

And then, just as quickly as the whirring had started, the coffee grinder fell away to silence once again.

“So-”

“Should we-”

Lance stopped midway as they spoke at the same time. Blinked for a second as he didn’t dare to speak up again, waiting for Keith to start over.

“Table?“ He said eventually once he realized Lance was waiting for him.

He nodded, gesturing for Keith to show the way.

 

It wasn’t long before their orders were placed on the table, and Lance was grateful for the momentary break it gave him from the building tension that was brewing between the two of them.

Lance deliberately watched the coffee in front of him. Distracted himself by playing with the accompanying spoon, listening to the hollow clink of metal against glass as he swirled the coffee.

When the silence had stretched on for too long, Keith sighed, seemingly giving in.

“I… Listened to your voicemail.”

That had Lance stop his swirling as he chanced a look at Keith.

Keith, whose mouth was pinched in a tight line as he regarded Lance. And then, realization hit.

Shit.

It’s not like he hadn’t assumed as much. One thing was suspecting, though. Keith confirming said suspicions was a completely different matter. A matter that had Lance go through several stages of humiliation, regret and… Most notably, he felt mortified.

“Before you say anything,” Keith started once Lance opened his mouth, stopping him before his mind had even supplied him with any words. “You don’t need to apologize.”

Lance closed his mouth then, apparently at a loss for words now that he couldn’t apologize. And, more surprisingly, he found himself out of his initial meltdown, the tension seeping out of his shoulders.

It must have been visible because even Keith seemed to relax then, looking into his mug as he continued.

“Look. I know that whatever I say won’t condemn or explain why I acted like I did.”

Lance held onto his glass as he watched Keith fidget with his mug. Waited patiently as Keith searched for the right words.

“Things were… pretty messed up back then. Still are, uh.” Keith rubbed at his eyes, seemingly grimacing at his phrasing. “Things with school… work… expectations from my family and myself has really worn me out.”

He took a deep breath as he collected his thoughts. Lance quelled the distinct urge to reach towards him, instead opting to drink from his coffee.

“It was all just too much. I really didn’t know what to do with myself. Or anything else for that matter.”

This time when he paused, he glanced up at Lance with a pained expression that had Lance’s heart skip a beat. Just as quickly as he’d glanced, though, his gaze locked onto the table in front of them once again.

“I’m aware that I pushed some of those frustrations onto you. That I tried to push you away. I thought it might be easier… or better, if we just stopped. Before I messed everything up. But that’s… I probably already did that.”

Keith fiddled with his cup absentmindedly before cradling it in his hands, almost as if he was afraid of letting go. His mouth was pressed together in a firm line.

“I’m so fucking sorry, Lance.” At this, Keith’s hands clenched his mug even more, his fingers turning white from the strain. Lance felt compelled to grab his wrists to loosen his grip before he accidentally broke it.

“I know it doesn’t excuse anything, but I really am,” he eventually added when Lance didn’t say anything, a wistful sigh escaping his lips.

Sensing that Keith was waiting for a response, Lance finally gave in to his urge and leaned forward, gently picking Keith’s wrists up.

The latter immediately loosened the hold on his cup, startled eyes meeting his.

“Hey,” Lance breathed, his voice surprisingly soft as he met Keith’s gaze. “Thank you for telling me.”

Keith’s breath came out shakily as he processed his words, several emotions passing across his face before Lance had the chance to read them.

He visibly tried to gather himself before he continued.

“I’m not asking for you to forgive me. I just,” At this, he faltered as if stopping himself. Then, slowly, he found his voice again, “You deserved to know. At least some of it.”

Lance squeezed his hands when Keith averted his gaze once again, trying to get through to him. “It’s not all your fault.”

It took some time, but eventually he got Keith to look into his eyes again.

A tentative albeit tired smile found its way on his face as he contemplated his next words. “I think we both messed up. I know for a fact that I did.”

“That’s not true,” Keith started, but by then Lance was already talking over him, trying to convey all of his emotions through his gestures, his voice.

“It is. I was spontaneous, reckless and selfish. I didn’t take your words into account, although I should have.”

It was with somewhat reluctance that Keith gave in to his words.

“I didn’t give you much of a choice, though…” he said after a while of silence. His gaze fell on their hands as he shifted their hold until his palms were facing up and against Lance’s.

Lance felt goosebumps appear on his skin when Keith’s fingers played absentmindedly across his wrist. Tried to stay unfazed even though it felt like his skin had caught fire.

“You shouldn’t have had to.”

Keith only hummed in response, neither confirming nor denying what Lance had said. Just pressing a thumb absentmindedly against Lance’s inner wrist as he followed the movement with his eyes.

“I’m sorry,” Keith repeated after a round of silence, gaze still cast on their hands.

“I’m sorry too,” Lance whispered then, moving his hands until their fingers were intertwined.

He hoped Keith heard him.

 

“So...” Lance started once they’d exited the café, hands burrowed into his pockets, “What’s the plan now?”

“I don’t know,” Keith answered truthfully, a hand coming up to scratch at the back of his neck. Lance’s eyes followed the movement until he caught the latter’s contemplative gaze. “Probably work some to pay off my loans. Maybe take a few extra courses before I reapply for university.”

Lance felt a certain fondness take over his features as he regarded Keith, finding something breathtaking in the familiarity of his gestures. “Sounds good.”

“Yeah.” A ghost of a smile crossed Keith’s face as he met his gaze, some of the tension ebbing out of his shoulders as he exhaled. “I’ll get there.”

“I know you will,” Lance stated in conviction, crossing his arms in his attempt at sheltering the cold autumn air.

For a moment none of them spoke, their gazes locking as seconds ticked by.

“Well,” Lance shrugged, a melancholic smile playing on his lips as he prepared for their inevitable parting. “You know where to find me.”

_I’m not going anywhere._

The words hanged in the air between them. Expanded. An extended hand, a promise of sorts.

Keith didn’t say anything. Just seemed to take Lance in before he nodded.

The moment stretched as they continued to regard one another, lingering just a second longer than necessary as if they waited for the other to break the silence. Then, eventually, Keith seemed to cave in, shaking his head as he smiled exasperatedly.

“Right,” he said, his exasperation evolving into fondness as he gathered himself.

Lance huffed himself, taking the first tentative steps backwards as he met Keith’s gaze one last time.

And just like that, for once on the same page, they went their separate ways.

 

* * *

 

[EPILOGUE]

Lance met Keith at New Year’s Eve.

He met him, but he didn’t really know him.

 

The first peak of spring is welcoming to Lance, visible in the warm hues of the sun and spurts of green growing around campus. The sun has attracted some of the sleep-deprived students, who’s lying outside in the grass and soaking in the sun. They’re enjoying the warmth as long as it will last. Others are more precarious, staring with unease through the windows as people pass by with their coats bundled in their arms.

Beside him Pidge and Hunk are busy discussing a project they’ve been working on for the past month or so, gesturing wildly and almost hitting Lance’s ribs in their fervor.

He’s not entirely sure whether he gets anything they’re saying, but he can’t help the fond smile catching in the corner of his mouth as he watches their heated debate evolve.

“I mean, if we just adjust the wavelengths…-”

“I get where you’re going, but are we sure it’s going to work?”

“Of course! I’m-” at this, Pidge finally manages to slap their hand against Lance’s side as they spread their arms wide. The sudden contact has Pidge stop in their tracks, and for a second they look at him in shock before realizations kicks in.

A sheepish look takes over their features as they mumble, “Woops. Sorry, Lance.”

Lance huffs out a laugh, shaking his head at the hazzle. “S’ fine.”

“Hey Lance,” Hunk interrupts then, leaning forward until he can meet his eye, “What do you think? New software or adjust the wavelengths?”

“Do I look like a tech guy to you?” he answers, cocking a brow questioningly at his friend.

“Fair point,” Hunk ponders before he shrugs, a smile catching his lips.

“That reminds me!” Pidge exclaims as they look between the two of them, excitement channeling through their hectic gestures, “Are we still up for movie night?”

“Actually,” Hunk adds hesitantly, an almost shy look crossing his face, “I’ve got plans with Shay today.”

The notion has the other two make wooing noises until Hunk flushes a deep red. “Guys, stop it! She’s not even my girlfriend.”

“Yet,” Pidge adds, a sly grin stretching from ear to ear. Lance snickers into his hand.

Hunk huffs, but even he can’t help the small smile betraying his amusement.

“What about you, Lance?” he asks then, prodding his side with his elbow. “Bachelor extraordinaire. Got any plans yourself?”

“Only with the most amazing woman to ever grace this earth,” Lance answers, putting a hand on his chest for extra effect. “My mom.”

“Boohoo. You guys are no fun.”

“Next week, Pidge,” Lance assures them, patting their shoulder reassuringly.

“No can do,” they state, side-eyeing Lance as they hug their jacket closer to their body. “I’m moving out next week, remember?”

“Oh right!” Hunk interjects, lightening up in excitement. “Do you need help moving any stuff?”

“Nah, it’s fine. I’ve got Matt and his friends helping me.” Pidge stops then, looking them over. “Seems like this is my turn. See you guys!”

“See you!” Hunk and Lance call out, waving as Pidge trudges away from the two of them.

“So…” Lance starts after a moment of silence between the two of them, eyeing Hunk meaningfully. “Shay. When are you gonna tell her?”

Hunk groans halfheartedly.

“Are we seriously having this conversation again.” He not as much says it as he states it, looking dead-eye at Lance.

“You know what?” he asks nonplussed, a brow quirked somewhat judgingly at his friend. “I think I sense some double standards here.”

“I admit it’s not as easy as I thought.” Hunk sighs, giving in to Lance’s accusation. “I’ll tell her soon, though. I promise. I just chicken out last minute-”

“Well, don’t,” Lance says, immediately sensing an upcoming ramble from Hunk if he doesn’t stop him right away. He sends him a genuine smile that has Hunk relax immediately before he continues, “She’s really into you.”

Hunk is silent for a while as if pondering his words. Then, finally,

“If you say so,” he relents sheepishly, leaving the conversation at that.

 

By the time Lance arrives home, his mom has already called him twice.

“Sorry for the wait,” he says once the connection has come through, his voice just the tiniest bit strained from his attempt at getting out of his shoes one-handedly. “Just got caught up with Pidge and Hunk on my way home.”

“ _Don’t worry about it,_ ” she says reassuringly, her voice clear despite the distance. For a second it almost feels like she’s standing right next to him.

There’s a certain warmth to her voice that has him nostalgic for a moment, unconsciously counting the months until he can visit his parents again.

Then he’s back to his usual self, a natural smile finding its way onto his lips.

“How’s pops?”

“ _Oh, you know…_ ” she starts, and there’s some shuffling around on the other end like she’s walking into another room, “ _Just the usual._ ”

“Sounds nice.” There’s a small thump as his jacket hits the floor, and for the moment he just lets it lie there as he trudges into the kitchen. “Miss you guys.”

“ _Oh honey, we miss you too._ ” His mom’s quiet for a moment. Then, “ _But enough about us. How are you holding up?_ ”

Lance starts recapping what he’s been up to lately, mostly launching into stories about Hunk and Pidge. Meanwhile, he tries to make his apartment look somewhat decent.

He sorts last week’s mail spread over his table from his homework. He checks on his plants, all of which are starting to sprout (some of them are more roots than actual plants, though). He gathers all leftover plates and glasses he’s managed to abandon around his house and places them next to the sink.

He’s got an apron on and his sleeves bunched up above his elbows when his mom catches on to his slight distraction.

“ _What are you up to?_ ” she asks suspiciously as he turns the tap on.

He laughs into the receiver.

“I’m just cleaning the dishes, ma. Don’t worry.”

He’s balancing his phone between his cheek and shoulder as he says it, head leaned towards his collar so it’s easier for her to hear him.

She sounds relieved when she laughs along, albeit there’s some tease in her voice when she speaks up again.

“ _Cleaning the dishes, he says._ ” He can almost envision her shaking her head as she says it, and a fond smile catches his lips as she continues, “ _Are you expecting someone?_ ”

“Not really,” he says, and he’s just about to shrug when he remembers that he’s not only balancing a phone precariously on said shoulder, but also has a sink filled with soap water right in front of him. He goes for a huff instead. “Just you.”

“ _He’s a grown man,_ ” his mother comments wistfully, then laughs as Lance groans in embarrassment.

He’s about to complain to his mom when he hears a distinct echo through his apartment.

Not sure he heard right, he turns the tap water off, listening tentatively into the room as his mom fills the silence he’s leaving. And there it is-

A knock.

Lance halts every movement, his eyes locked on the front door.

“Mom?” he interrupts, already sorry for having to stop her midway.

There’s some rustling on the other end. Then, finally, “ _Hmm? What is it,_ mijo?”

“Can I call you back later?” he says, a notch of hesitancy to his voice as he dries his hands in his apron. “I think there’s someone outside my door.”

“ _I thought you weren’t expecting company?_ ”

“I’m not,” he insists, scratching at his neck with his free hand as he starts padding towards the door, “It’s probably just a salesman or something. I promise I’ll be back in a sec.”

“ _Alright, alright,_ ” his mom eventually gives in, a fondness present in her voice, “ _Take care, talk to you soon!_ ”

The silence is jarring when the connection breaks. It has Lance hum absentmindedly as he stuffs his phone into his back pocket.

The knocking has stopped once he’s picked his jacket off the floor, but there’s a shadow beneath the door indicating that whoever knocked on the door is still waiting.

He takes a deep breath before finally willing himself to open the door.

_And._

There’s a shocked silence at first.

Lance blinks. Remembers how to breathe.

“Hey,” he says, air rushing out of his lungs in the process.

Keith takes a moment longer to gather himself.

“Hey. I… uh,” he falters, gaze flickering towards Lance’s apron in what seems to be hesitant realization. “Should I come back later?”

And Keith looks so nervous - from the way he shuffles his feet to the way he picks at his gloves. Lance can’t help the warm fondness spreading in his chest from the familiar sight.

Lance follows Keith’s gaze to his apron, at which he just snorts.

“It’s fine, really.” Lance opens the door wider for Keith to step inside, a shy smile betraying the nerves settling in his stomach.

Keith’s gaze flickers back to his face, and for a second something akin to disbelief crosses his features. Then, as realization kicks in, he returns the smile hesitantly before he follows him inside.

 

“You’ve… moved the furniture.” The words come as a surprise to Lance the moment Keith says them, and it’s with some wonder he observes his apartment from Keith’s perspective.

“I… yeah,” he finds himself scratching his neck sheepishly as he answers him, not sure where to stand in the room. “Hunk helped me redecorate some time ago.”

At the time it had seemed like the most important thing to do. Now, though, when Keith comments on it, it seems kind of stupid.

“I see.” He purses his lips, barely concealing the smile that’s slowly forming on his lips.

The silence that falls between them this time is less tense, the two of them just regarding one another. Content in each other’s company, albeit they’re somewhat unsure of what to do with themselves.

It’s… definitely _something_ to have Keith back in his apartment. Seeing him in such familiar settings after such a long time apart.

It’s different from what he’s used to.

It’s nice, though.

“Do you… uh, do you want something to drink?” Lance adds after a while, hoping his voice doesn’t betray how nervous he is. “Tea? Coffee?”

“No.” Then, somewhat contemplative, Keith seems to reconsider, “Actually, water would be nice.”

“Great!” Lance nods quickly before turning around, happy for the distraction.

Silence falls upon them once again as Lance serves refrigerated water into two glasses, using a ridiculous amount of effort in pouring it just right.

As he turns around, he finds Keith waiting right behind him.

He starts, almost dropping the glasses in the process.

“Sorry,” Keith mumbles, self-consciously retreating one step before accepting his glass of water.

At least they’re both nervous wrecks. Lance shakes his head in exasperation, a small smile forming on his lips.

“Right,” he says, fiddling with his own glass for a moment.

Neither of them look at the other.

Then, with resolution, he sets his glass aside. Keith follows the movement with his eyes before he finally meets his gaze.

Only then does Lance bite the bullet.

“So...” He tries to gesture with his hand in what is intended to be an offhanded move, but instead comes across like a nervous twitch. “Why’d you decide to come?”

Keith looks conflicted for a moment, mouth pressed into a firm line as his shoulders rise defensively.

Then he sighs, the fight immediately going out of him, instead leaving him suddenly hesitant as he seems to consider his next words.

“Is… Is there a chance we could start over?”

And…

Woah.

Lance can feel his heart pick up its pace right away as his mind tries to catch up. His fingers are already buzzing with energy as he bites at his lip. Because it almost sounds like Keith is suggesting…-

“I know this is a bit sudden,” Keith rushes on, apparently interpreting Lance’s silence the wrong way, “I mean, we haven’t spoken for what, half a year? And I know things haven’t exactly been smooth between us. I just-”

He stops midway and takes a deep breath, adamant to get through with his speech. “I just really don’t wanna give up on this.”

Then, with more emphasis, he adds, “I don’t wanna regret giving up on you.”

Lance opens his mouth in a perfect o, comprehending his words slowly. Comprehending-

_Wow,_ okay. This is really happening.

Too many emotions well up in him at once, all of them demanding and overwhelming. He’s barely aware of what’s happening before he finds himself blinking harshly, fighting the tears threatening to spill.

“And fuck, now you’re crying,” Keith breathes out, something akin panic crossing his face as he bites down on his lips to keep himself intact. Then, he shakes his head, his hair obscuring most of his face as he slowly backs away.

His voice is strained when he speaks again.

“I’ll just show myself to the door.”

“Nononono, wait!” Lance finally kicks himself out of his stupor and grabs Keith’s wrists before he has the chance to turn away, a laugh bubbling out of his mouth even as the first tear spills. “I’m just… Oh my God, give me a second.”

He gasps for a moment, trying to regain his breath. Keith looks like he has no idea what he’s supposed to do, instead just watching Lance in astonishment and terror.

“Okay,” Lance says, somewhat composed, “So what you’re saying is-”

“I wanna start over,” Keith finishes, his voice betraying how vulnerable he is even though Lance isn’t pushing him away. “If you want to, that is.”

Lance looks at him for a moment. Then, with some courage, he takes Keith’s other hand into his hands, squeezing them affectionately.

“I did tell you I’d be here, didn’t I?” he says then, a trembling smile reaching his face.

It takes a while, but eventually Keith seems to understand the meaning behind his words.

A slow smile works its way from the corner of his mouth, tilting upwards until he’s practically beaming. It’s contagious, immediately drawing a similar grin onto Lance’s mouth.

He thinks it’s the most beautiful thing he’s ever seen.

One moment he’s revelling in Keith’s smile, the next he’s pulled into his embrace.

And then there’s nothing but _Keith._ His hair tickling the side of his face, his smell overwhelming his senses, his arms wrapping around his neck.

Keith, pulling slightly away as their gazes meet.

“Can- can I…?” Keith starts, somewhat hesitant as his fingers run through Lance’s hair, cradling his head.

“Fuck yeah,” Lance breathes, and Keith surges in.

Keith’s lips are soft and familiar when they meet his. Tentative at first, just a press against his lips. Then, fueled by the moment, he presses on.

The kiss… it’s…

In all honesty, it’s terrible. Their teeth keep clashing as they smile into the kiss, their noses bumping whenever they pull back in their attempt at gathering themselves. Lance is pretty sure he starts crying again at some point during the kiss.

It’s messy, it’s terrible, and it’s absolutely perfect.

Lance kisses the corner of Keith’s mouth, kisses his nose, his cheeks, his eyelids, each lingering kiss telling Keith the words he can’t say out loud.

_I love you._

Keith sighs as he goes back for his mouth, melting completely in his embrace as he runs his hand through his hair. _I love you so much._

And then, with the worst timing ever, his back pocket starts buzzing.

Lance groans the moment he feels the insistent buzz against his backside, the obnoxious tune demanding his attention at once.

It’s with great reluctance that he finally detaches himself from Keith, who in turn looks at Lance with upturned brows.

“Okay, I really gotta answer this call,” Lance immediately apologizes before Keith has the chance to ask, “Just give me one second.”

His hands are trembling as he fumbles with his phone, finally managing to hit _answer call._

“ _Mami?_ Can I call you back tomorrow? I’m really-” Lance is already starting to ramble, looking at anything but Keith.

He must have sounded winded from the kiss because his mother immediately catches on.

“Mijo, _are you crying? What’s wrong?_ ”

“No,” he starts, then pauses as he realizes she’s right. “Actually, yes. But it’s not- I’m just really happy.”

“ _Oh,_ ” she chuckles, and he can feel the warmth of her tone spreading in his cheeks. “ _My sweet boy, what’s gotten into you?_ ”

“Ma I swear I’ll tell you everything tomorrow, but I really gotta go now,” he rushes, and his mother immediately barks a surprised laugh in return that only has him flush a deeper red.

“ _Of course, honey, _”__ she answers, her voice still strained from withholding laughter. _ _“ _Love you. Talk to you later._ ”__

“Iloveyoutoobye,” Lance breathes out at once before he hits end call.

It’s not until he looks up from his phone that he realizes Keith has been watching him the whole while and… Oh.

Yeah.

“That was… wow,” Keith says, visibly perplexed as he blinks at Lance. “You speak Spanish with your mom?”

“Yeah?” Lance feels his lips quirk in the corner of his mouth as he processes Keith’s words. “You into that?”

The somewhat impressed expression he’d worn barely a second ago is immediately replaced by a deadpan look as Lance waggles his eyebrows.

“Shut up,” he groans, playfully pushing Lance away.

He can’t help but laugh in return, enjoying the slight embarrassment he can get out of Keith even though he’s trying hard to mask it.

It’s not until he finally regains his breath that he adds, with a fondness to his voice, “Don’t worry, she speaks English too.”

His statement is met with a surprised silence that has Lance chance a look at Keith.

Keith, who’s gawking at him unabashedly, shock not as much as surprise present on his face.

He’s a second too late to realize his slip up, and once he does, he almost chokes on his own spit.

_Fuck._ Too soon?

Trying to regain his composure Lance clears his throat, thumping a hand against his chest so as to clear his clogged throat.

“I mean...” Lance coughs one last time, desperately trying to come up with something to cover up his mistake. “Damn-”

A surprised laugh escapes Keith. Then, as if that is all it takes, it’s as if he can’t hold it back anymore, and his body hunches forward and into Lance’s space as he laughs uncontrollably.

Lance is a mess, somewhere in-between concern and shock - and, most of all - mortification by his own stupidity as he holds Keith.

“What?” Even though his words come out defensively, Lance is more flustered if anything.

“I’m sorry.” Keith’s laugh stills as he collects himself. “This is just really weird.”

“You don’t say…” Lance runs a hand through his hair, a small, fond smile finding his lips.

Then, after a while of silence, he starts over.

“Hey. Wanna watch a movie?”

“Yeah,” Keith answers, his shoulders relaxing as he breathes out. “I’d love to.”

 

Halfway into the movie Lance has to admit that okay, he might not be as interested in the movie as he lets on. It also doesn’t take him long to notice that Keith isn’t paying much attention to the movie either.

So instead of using all of his energy on being consciously aware of the few inches between the two of them, he actually makes an effort to close said distance. Because, good movie or not, it is a great excuse to start making out with Keith.

It takes nothing more but a few kisses to his jawline before Keith gets the gist of it. A sly smile is sent his way before he swiftly turns around and shoves him down on the couch, letting his hands wander up under his shirt as he climbs onto his lap.

… Or so he thought.

“Ohmygodstopit, it _tickles_ -” Lance resists once he’s able to draw breath.

Keith, however, is merciless.

“ _Hmm_ , say that again?” he muses, but he’s already jabbing at his sides before he has the chance to answer.

Screw the movie. The fight is _on._

 

Later, as Keith gets ready for sleep, Lance tidies up his bedroom, pushing clothes out of the way and rearranging the pillows. When Keith comes back Lance has already settled into the bed, and he climbs in on the other side, facing Lance as he lies down.

They stare at one another for a fraction of a second before Keith tentatively scoots closer, wrapping an arm loosely around Lance’s waist.

“You know,” he says softly, his breath fanning over Lance’s face as he avoids his gaze, stroking his back absentmindedly before continuing, “I’m not really good at… Or, I haven’t exactly… dated before.”

For a moment, he’s silent. Then, slowly, he reaches a hand up around his neck, playing with the ends of Keith’s hair.

A content sigh escapes his lips, and Lance feels something flutter in his chest.

“We’ll take it slow,” he breathes as he entangles their legs.

Keith only hums in response, already halfway to sleep.

 

Long after Keith’s breaths have evened out, he’s still lying fully awake, listening to the rapid beat of his heart. Thinking.

Lance met Keith at New Year’s Eve.

He met him, but he didn’t really know him.

But now, lying here in the long hours of the night, Keith’s body curled up next to his, he’s never felt more alive.

They still might not know one another truly, but it’s alright.

(They’ve got plenty of time).

**Author's Note:**

> **EDIT: [fixed some errors] Oh my god guys thank you so much for all the positive feedback!! We're honestly so floored jaldfjal... just, in general, thank you so much for sticking to the end of this story! ALSO, while we're at it, huge shoutout to becks for reading the first drafts through and coming up with suggestions and corrections. You're the absolute best!! ♥**
> 
>  
> 
> -  
> Two things we just wanna say:
> 
> First of all, thank you so much for taking your time to read our fic! It feels like we've been raising this baby for the past year, and now it's finally able to stand on its own feet.
> 
> Second, would anyone be interested in a sequel from Keith's perspective? We're aware that in choosing Lance's perspective, there's a lot of hidden motives and other stuff from Keith that we really haven't been able to cover (at least we have a lot of ideas that we couldn't incorporate into our story).
> 
> Feel free to comment, like, or chat us up on our tumblr!  
> @ birdiebluesblog [[HERE](http://birdiebluesblog.tumblr.com/)]  
> @ yaizzy [[HERE](http://yaizzy.tumblr.com/)]  
> \- OR, y'know, you could just go to our shared-but-very-inactive blog @ musvitten [[HERE](http://musvitten.tumblr.com/)]


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